Contrapposto
by darylsdiva1
Summary: <html><head></head>Carol Peletier returns to college after her divorce and meets an intriguing man in one of her art classes. AU Caryl.</html>
1. Chapter 1

_**Contrapposto **_

"_The at ease pose preferred by the ancient Greeks in the depiction of the human body; it encompasses the tension as a figure changes from resting on a given leg to walking or running upon it."_

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><p>"Have you seen him yet?" Andrea asked her and Carol stopped in the process of tacking a large clean white sheet of drawing paper to the easel in front of her.<p>

"Him?" Carol asked, frowning.

"The new model." Andrea said with a sultry, knowing smile.

"_Him?"_ Carol asked again, blinking and hearing crickets in her head, her brain unwilling or somehow unable to process what her new friend was telling her.

She had been forced into taking this Figure Drawing class after the ceramics class she had originally trying to register had closed before she'd gotten in. She needed both for her Art concentration, but had been leery of taking a night class which could potentially interfere with any job she might get off campus to help pay her tuition and living expenses. Going back to school after her divorce to earn a teaching degree had been a leap of faith.

She'd been afraid that the young traditional aged students in her classes would run rings around her; that she'd never be able to keep up with them. Meeting Andrea on the first night had been a huge relief. Andrea had invited her to join the N.T.S.O., the Non-traditional Student Organization, known by the lesser wits as the "Nutsos." She hadn't asked, but the other woman seemed to be mid to late thirties, and had the flowing locks, taut tight body and smooth skin of a woman who took excellent care of herself. And not because she was out to snag a man—she'd announced at their first meeting that she was in a committed relationship—but because she simply had her shit together in ways Carol could only imagine.

At thirty-one and one year out of a nightmare of a marriage, Carol was doing her best not to compare herself to those around her. She knew she was too thin, a kind person might use the term "petite" to describe her, and her short red curls had started to go grey from stress years ago. She thought that her best feature was her eyes, large in her pale freckled face, an arresting crystal blue, her only vanity the careful application of mascara to enhance them. Her fellow art students in this class ranged from Beth, the teen beauty queen with the big eyes setting up her things across the circle—another blonde, she could be Andrea's kid sister—to the mysterious ebony skinned dread locked goddess taking the stool next to the young girl's, Michonne, who flashed Carol a narrow eyed assessing stare.

"I hear he's got these fucking _amazing_ tattoos." A new voice to her right interrupted her wool gathering and Carol turned to see Glenn, the young Korean guy that could always make her laugh, plunk himself down next to her after putting his paper up on the easel in front of his station.

Andrea leaned behind Carol to add her two cents worth to Glenn's assessment, but before she could speak the man in question strode into the room. Just as their previous models had done, (all female, which explained Carol's surprise at his gender) he wore a bathrobe, under which he would be nude.

"Gay?" Andrea whispered, asking Glenn's first impression.

"I'd do him." Glenn mused with a sigh and a cocky smile. Glenn didn't discriminate. Neither did his girlfriend Tara.

Carol snorted at them both delicately and took her seat on her stool, effectively blocking their view of each other. Andrea blew a raspberry at Carol for ruining her fun and Glenn pouted, but started using a small knife to sharpen his pencils, ignoring her.

Carol sighed and listened as their teacher set out the requirements for tonight's session: the model would do a series of two minute poses for a rapid fire sketch drill and then they would take a break before a longer standing muscle study, working on contrapposto and tonality. It took a great deal of physical strength to hold the longer poses and Carol was curious about this man's background. Most of the female models had been tanned athletes and dancers, comfortable in their skin, used to being admired for the beauty and fitness of their sylph-like forms.

The one Carol liked drawing most though was a woman from the acting program—more voluptuous—with long ropes of red hair, a lovely rounded belly and full breasts and a wicked smile. She admired the actress's moxie and passion; her take no prisoners attitude, eschewing her robe on break, laughing and talking with the students as she wandered through the room to look at what kinds of images of her had been captured. She'd been _interesting_ to draw…

The new model wasn't what she'd expected. Not at all. He wasn't a stereotypical athlete type, no burly thick necked six foot seven linebacker or fireplug bulldog of a wrestler, but he was fit, muscular from what she could tell by the way his upper arms pulled tight at the sleeves of the robe. Just under six feet tall, he had the "V" body type of a Greek statue, broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hips, she could see how he got hired for this gig. His face was partially obscured by a fringe of red blonde bangs as he stared at the floor, patiently waiting for the professor to finish talking and signal for the class to begin.

Carol's foot accidentally brushed against her easel as she adjusted her position on the high stool, causing its leg to squeak loudly against the tile floor and the model's head came up and his cool blue eyes met hers as he looked for the source of the noise. Carol gave a rueful half smile of embarrassed apology and he quirked her a tiny one back in reply and then winked at her. It surprised her into blushing and his grin became broader, framed by his reddish brown mustache and goatee, the beauty mark next to his mouth rising, a dimple showing in his cheek. Oh good lord, the man was electrifying when he did that…

"Way to go Carol." Glenn teased out of the side of his mouth, raising his hand for a fist bump, which a mortified Carol ignored.

"Don't Bogart the hottie, cougar momma." Andrea added in a not so soft whisper.

Before she could respond to either of her friends' comments, Carol's moment with the model was interrupted by the impatient throat clearing of their professor, drawing the his attention back to the job at hand.

"I think we're ready to begin, if you please Daryl?" Professor Ogden asked pleasantly, holding out her hand for the robe. He schooled his face to impassivity and untied the belt, shrugging the robe off of his shoulders and letting it fall into his hands as he tugged it the rest of the way off and handed the garment to the woman.

Carol took a deep breath and wondered if everyone else in the class was silently muttering the same mantra as she was inside her head: _"I won't look at his dick, I will __not__ look at his dick, I won't look at hi…"_

"Oh. My." Andrea said with the inhale and exhale of a breathy sigh, her hand finding Carol's left forearm and giving it a quick squeeze and release.

Daryl stood in his first pose, hands on his hips, eyes closed, head turned to the side and down.

Carol picked up her pencils and studied him, trying to be objective. This was simply another human form, a collection of lines and shapes. The highlights and shadows were shaped by the skeletal structure and musculature under the skin. They'd spent the first part of the course drawing skeletons, giving them an underpinning in anatomy.

To Carol all bodies were beautiful and interesting, each had its own challenges for her when trying to capture them through hand and eye in live observation like this, plotting out the correct proportions, the way a shadow fell…she focused on his shoulders for the first quick study, checking and rechecking that they were really that broad, following the line of long lean hard muscle from traps to biceps, concentrating on each part rather than the whole of the man.

The two minutes went quickly and he moved into his next pose, turning to place his back to Carol's side of the room this time, his arms raised, his hands resting on his nape.

"See? Amazing tats." Glenn murmured.

"Silence, remember Mr. Rhee?" Ogden admonished as she walked by behind them, checking their work. "Try for more ease in your marks—relax your hand, you're too tight. Use your whole field, go _big_."

As the professor walked away Andrea leaned close to Carol.

"Get him to turn around again and I'll go _big_." Andrea chortled softly in Carol's ear.

"How old are you?" Carol whispered and made a disgusted face at her friend, nudging her back to her own space.

Carol was fascinated by the twin devils climbing his shoulder and focused her attention there to try to capture the complexities of them, but suffering her friends' distractions, only got a rough start before he moved again. This pose turned him in profile to her and the long muscular line of his back as it curved down to his behind was simply perfection. Carol carefully unpinned and pulled the page she been working on off her easel revealing the clean one next in line and used almost the whole sheet, practically life size, to try to capture what she saw. Her hand flew over the paper fluidly, in the zone, recreating hip and thigh, the Venus girdle of muscle differentiating his abdominals from his groin and then there it was; the edge of the smooth crest and flared head just visible beyond the juncture where leg turned to torso. Swallowing hard, she lightly sketched it in, chiding herself just as she'd done to Andrea. She was a grown-up—she'd been _married_ for Christ's sake-why should the sight of a penis throw her in a tizzy?

And then he changed pose again, coming full circle, facing Carol, Andrea and Glenn full frontal.

Carol's eyes stayed where they had been focused during the profile position, frozen, staring, silently apologizing to Andrea and feeling a little sorry for herself with the realization that her ex had, relatively speaking, so little to offer. She knew male models had tricks to keep from getting hard, cold shower beforehand, cold room to pose in, reciting or picturing the least sexy things possible, so she wondered if this was him quiescent, what would it…what would_ he_ be like when…

Carol swallowed hard and then ripped off another page, the sound of tearing paper seeming to echo in the silent room above the soft whooshed whispers of pencil on paper. Wincing, her eyes involuntarily rose to his face again, and damn it of the son of a bitch wasn't smirking at her, his eyes flashing with mischief, hardly the bland cipher a figure drawing model was supposed to be. Again Carol's hand moved across the white surface, this time quickly capturing that arched brow, dancing eyes, those high cheekbones, that pointed chin, the strong jaw and the strong column of his neck all framed by that wild mop of hair falling over his forehead.

"_Very_ nice, Carol!" Professor Ogden said in a warm tone from over Carol's shoulder, loud enough for the whole class to hear. "Though this is figure drawing, not portraiture," she continued with a small bit of censure.

"I'm sorry –I just—" Carol began, but the Prof. patted her shoulder comfortingly, telling her,

"It really is very good." And then she squeezed her way through the small space between Carol and Glenn's stations so she could hand Daryl his robe, which he donned casually, not like he'd been embarrassed in any way to have everyone in the room see his body.

"All right, fifteen minute break—remember no food in the studio and no smoking on University property!" Ogden reminded them and Daryl grunted and pulled out a Nicorette blister pack from his robe pocket, popping one of the pieces of nicotine gum into his mouth.

Most people quickly left the room, heading out for a snack or bathroom break, but a couple of the students remained, including Carol and the girl opposite her in the room.

"Can I get you a soda or anything?" Beth, the doe-eyed beauty queen asked Daryl as she came out from around her easel into the model dais space.

"Nah, I drink anything Imma have to take a piss before I'm done with all this fuckin' artsy fartsy bullshit." He drawled in a slow South Georgia twang, scratching at his belly, making Beth blink at him, wide eyed.

"Oh….well…oh. Okay…sorry?" Beth sputtered, backing away and fleeing the room, her face flushing red.

"That wasn't very nice." Carol said in her lighter drawl, continuing to work on her portrait of Daryl instead of taking the break, leaving them alone in the room.

"How old is she? Twelve?" Daryl said dismissively, strolling towards her on those long legs.

"How old are _you_?" Carol asked, frowning—it was hard to tell. She'd thought at first he was a college student, but as she studied his face more closely she thought older; something about his eyes…

"Twenty-seven." Daryl said easily, "You?"

"Thirty-one." Carol said unashamedly. She was proud to have survived the hell of her twenties and was looking forward to the rest of her thirties and beyond; free to do whatever the hell _she_ wanted to do.

"Cool." Daryl said, nodding, "I like a woman with some miles on her." He turned sideways so he could come between her and Glenn's easels and stood next to her so she could see her work.

Carol continued to draw, doing her best to ignore his closeness, his clean masculine scent, his entirely disturbing presence making the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand up at attention.

"Fuck _me_, Carol, you're an _artist_." Daryl exclaimed quietly, sounding impressed with what he saw. Others began filtering back into the room and after a brief glance up at them Daryl leaned closer, his lips to her ear.

Carol froze, her cheeks pinkening—he seemed to be making a habit of getting her to do that—and her hand stilled on the paper.

"That _was_ an offer…in case you were wondering." Daryl said, his mint tinged breath warm on the side of her face. And then he was gone, walking around the back of the room to check out the rest of the students' work, engaging some of them in conversation as well, but his eyes always seemed to find her again, full of warm interest.

_Did he just? What? Proposition her? _Carol's mind scurried around like a little gray mouse looking for a way into the farmhouse to escape the winter cold.

She was drawn out of her reverie by the return of Andrea and Glenn, who sneaked her some forbidden peanut M&Ms which Carol gratefully popped in her mouth, feeling a little light headed.

"I think you were inspired." Andrea said, looking at the portrait.

"I know_ I_ was." Glenn sighed, earning him a pinch from Andrea, making him add defensively, "Hey, the dude is _hot_. Don't tell me if you weren't exclusive you wouldn't do that."

"I certainly would." Andrea agreed and then looked speculatively at Carol. "You know there _is_ someone in our little group who_ isn't_ in a relationship…"

Carol let her gaze find Daryl, who flashed her a grin before he sobered and he moved back towards the dais to get back to work.

"What do you say Carol?" Glenn teased, "You ready to give Daryl a tumble?"

_Wasn't that the point of her new life?_ Carol thought, _that she was free now? Free to do whatever or __whoever__ the hell she wanted to do? She was tired of her at ease pose; resting, waiting, recovering…it was time to get on with it…take that first step…_

The artist stood and pushed against her easel, forcing the same scraping squeak from it as she had accidentally done earlier. Daryl's head came up and his eyes met hers again, his head tilting slightly in a silent question. Carol slowly nodded her head up and down and silently mouthed the word "Yes."

Daryl looked surprised, then pleased, that full on dimpled smile lighting his face and warming his eyes as he returned the nod.


	2. Chapter 2

_Daryl & Carol's night continues with a little surprise..._

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><p><strong><span><em>Contrapposto: Ch. 2<em>**

"_Daddy?"_ a child's voice cut through the haze of passion that had almost completely taken over Daryl's brain. He hadn't expected it to be so all involving, here on his big old ratty leather couch with the woman. Carol was a surprise in more ways than he was quite ready to deal with at the moment, so even though his overheated body protested the interruption, his mind was glad to be put on pause.

She wasn't the first woman he'd chatted up and ended up going home with at the end of a night of posing. Truth be told in that situation he could usually find someone he was interested in enough to invite to get to know him better; seeing him in the nude kind of broke down a lot of barriers. In the class tonight alone he'd spotted a fascinating African American woman and the rather obvious blonde who'd been sitting next to Carol, but then the little bit of a woman with the squeaky easel had caught his eye.

Carol wasn't his _usual _type. Truth be told the obvious blonde was more like the last few women he'd slept with—out for a good time, one night only, a _fuck me baby with that big dick_ kinda gal—real fun, but no risk of any sort of emotional entanglement. Scratch the itch; make it go away for awhile. Daryl had enough other complicated shit going on in his life without someone who expected him to call her the next day.

No, Carol _wasn't_ his usual type...not recently anyhow... but her easy blushes and shy glances that gradually grew bolder and most of all her _talent_ intrigued him more than he had _let_ himself be intrigued in a long time.

Sometimes when he wandered the art studio after a session he had to swallow his chuckles at the lack of skill most of the students exhibited in the beginning classes. He knew art; _lived _his art and to see someone who with a few swipes of a pencil or brush strokes captured him so completely was a seduction in and of itself. Her quick sketched portrait of him had stunned him.

"Shi-_oot!_" Daryl bit out, changing words in mid stream, pulling up and away from Carol so he could sit up and look towards the figure at back of the room descending the spiral staircase from the loft on the second floor.

"_Daddy?"_ Carol's repeated and her eyes went wide and her mouth came open and in a classic O of surprise as she sat up too and saw a young girl of about seven or eight, wearing footie pajamas winding her way down the stairs, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Hey baby girl—thought you were at Nana's tonight." Daryl said in a calm voice, holding Carol's hand below the girl's eye level to keep her from fleeing.

"Uncle Merle got sick again," the girl said, reaching the bottom of the stairs, clutching a small well-loved rag doll in her arm.

_Merle—his damn brother needed more babysitting these days than his daughter._ Daryl sighed to himself.

"Nana dropped me off at nine—I musta fallen asleep—I tried waiting up—you were supposed to be home soon—wasn't your class over at nine?" the child asked, making Daryl damn his mother as well for not staying to make sure Daryl got home or at least calling or texting him to tell him she'd had to bring Sophia back.

The class _had_ been done at nine, but he'd lingered talking to Carol and her friends at the campus pub, sharing a pitcher of Guinness and conversation. He'd liked her friends. He could tell that Carol was a bit nervous about her bold decision to say yes to him and so had included her pals in the invitation for a drink. The obvious blonde, Andrea, was smarter than she looked, and like the easy going Asian guy, Glenn, was very protective of Carol.

Glenn's girl, Tara, had shown up after about half an hour, her night class having run long, and Daryl had been a little envious of the obvious easy affection they'd showed one another. She sat on his lap, intelligent dark eyes flashing, laughing and commenting on everything Glenn said, calling bullshit several times until he hushed her with a heady looking kiss. Daryl's eyes slid to Carol and when he saw her lick her lips and look to his as if she was imaging what they would feel like on hers he knew it was time to move the evening along.

They bid their companions goodnight, but only after Glenn insisted that he be given Daryl's full name, cell number and address. Daryl smiled and pretended not to notice when Andrea slipped several condoms into Carol's backpack as she hugged her.

Just like he'd thought, _protective friends._ It made him like her even more to know she inspired such loyalty.

It turned out that Carol rented a room from an older couple just off campus and she wasn't comfortable bringing him there, so it was either a motel or his place. Knowing Sophia would be at his mom's for the night, an arrangement that had worked well for the evenings he had work; he invited Carol to his home, tossing her bike in the back of his trusty vintage Ford pickup. He stood by the passenger side door, holding it open for her, noticing how her hands trembled on the straps of her pack as she pulled it from her shoulders and he stopped her, taking it from her and setting it on the floor in the truck cab.

"Carol?" Daryl said, his voice gentle, "I can just take you home—to your place—if you want. You don't have to do this."

Carol looked up at him, taking a step back, the hurt in her expressive eyes making him back track immediately, catching hold of her delicate hands and holding her still.

"I'm not sayin'—it's not that I don't want—_damn it_…" he sighed and tried again. "You just don't seem like someone who…"

"Who what? Goes home with a guy she's just met?" Carol said, her voice surprisingly strong with pique. "Were you just—what? Making fun of the mousy housewife and had to follow through when I called you on it in front of people?" she huffed at him.

"Fuck no!" Daryl snorted, "What's with the mousey housefrau bullshit? Those eyes and that ass alone qualify you as stunning, lady. And if that wasn't enough you're the best artist in that whole fuckin' room; believe me, I know." He tugged her forward until he could drop her hands and place his around her waist, resting them on the point of her hips, still keeping about a half a foot between them.

"What do you _do_, Daryl?" Carol asked, raising her hands to his chest, making him frown and blink at her ignoring his compliments and the change in their proximity.

"For work?"

"Yes—besides the modeling—what else to you _do_?"

Daryl stared at her—she was making this personal, wanting to know things about him that had nothing to do with spending the night in his bed. At first his cerulean eyes looked angry, then uncomfortable until the shutters went down and he was again that easy going dude who doffed his robe and flirted with her so cheekily in class.

"Lil'bit a this, lil'bit a that." He shrugged noncommittally.

"All right, I'll go first." Carol said, breezing by his evasion. "I'm in my first semester of university, working on a teaching degree, hopefully so I can teach art to kids. I work two jobs to make every day ends meet and have an already terrifying amount of money borrowed to pay my tuition and fees." She let her eyes fall away, looking down and taking a deep breath before continuing, "A year ago I finalized my divorce from the poorest excuse for a man I'll probably ever know…" She flashed him a self-deprecating smile that grew warm when her eyes rose to meet his again, "and tonight I met a beautiful kind man who for God knows what reason was attracted to me and I want to do something about that."

Her fingers slowly ran up and down the buttons of his shirt as she talked, making Daryl feel a curious lightness in his chest, as if she was loosening all the tension he held there. He stared at her, knowing the calm mask she wore hid her own fear that he would reject her, and he was shamed because she was braver than he.

"I'm a firefighter EMT—work out of the firehouse in Woodbury but I live in Senoia." Daryl told her quietly, giving in a little, and Carol nodded to encourage him to continue.

"I pick up some extra cash to pay for my hobbies by modeling for art classes on my off night shifts." then he chuckled, "My mama always says I don't got no shame so I might as well take advantage of it."

Carol smiled at his reasons, her eyes bright with interest. She'd always wondered what motivated the models that came and bared all for the gaze of strangers. It had to be more than money.

"I like it when you smile at me like that." Daryl murmured, and that turned Carol's cheeks warm, "And 'specially when you blush—can't fake that." He lifted his right hand and brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek and then ran his index finger down her nose, "I wanna know if these freckles bloom all over your sweet pale soft skin," he rubbed the pad of his thumb along her lower lip, "I wanna know if your nipples are as pink as your lips," he leaned closer, "I wanna know how you taste, Carol..." and then his mouth brushed across hers, a whisper of a kiss and he then started to pull away.

Carol's fingers tightened on the front of his shirt in response, pulling him forward and fitting her lips to his, tentative but with apparent desire, and Daryl found himself deepening the kiss this time, exploring her lips with soft swipes of his tongue. She kissed him back hungrily and he matched her ardor; his arms coming more tightly around her, as she plunged her hands into the long hair at his nape, holding his head to her until they were both breathless and panting.

"That felt like another _yes_..." Daryl breathed, looking down at her questioningly, his fingers tracing the long curved line of her spine soothingly up and down over the smooth white cotton of her peasant blouse. She was dressed like a hippie chick, another thing he liked about her—the casual chic faded jeans with rips and paint stains, the beaded moccasins, the pristine white blouse that had been protected under her blue flannel paint shirt with more flecks of paint and clay liberally ground into it, left behind at her drawing station in the studio. He wondered if she'd made her own jewelry—long beaded dangles of silver and turquoise and several elaborate beaded necklaces—and then wondered if she understood how _totally _attracted he was to her...Carol was so _real_, no artifice, no games. She was probably a huge mistake in his already complicated life, but one he couldn't stop himself from making.

She'd gotten in his truck then and he'd driven them to his place on the outskirts of Senoia, an old warehouse rezoned residential that he'd bought cheap and was in the constant process of fixing up. The very high ceilings allowed loft space for bedrooms that were accessed by the two wrought iron spiral staircases he'd salvaged out of a tear down, which was where he got a lot of his materials. His brother Merle's company was in the architectural salvage business and Daryl always got first pick in any jobs he worked for Dixon Salvage. Lately that had been a lot more often and he was usually there as substitute foreman when Merle couldn't make it in.

Carol was like a kid in a candy store as she looked over the architectural remnants he had piled everywhere, boxes full of old door knobs and locks, stacks of moldings and doors, light fixtures and stained glass windows. Some of the glass was salvage, some repairs for other people in progress, but much of it was his original work. Though he had pieces leaned against a wall, a lot he had hung for display in front of the big almost floor to ceiling industrial windows on the south side of the warehouse space, one of the reasons he loved the space. They lit the interior of his home with rainbow splashes of color that changed all throughout the day.

"You'll have to come back in the daylight so you can see the glass." Daryl said, the spontaneous invitation betraying his hope that this would be more than a one night thing, making Carol's head come up so she could look into his eyes, searching for sincerity, happy when she found it.

"I'd like that," Carol said shyly, giving him that demure smile again.

"I'm supposed to offer you a beverage of your choice," Daryl said, leading her to the kitchen, equipped with an industrial kitchen chef's stove saved from a restaurant fire salvage—his two main jobs coming together in that instance. He pulled open the ancient looking round cornered fridge door and peered in.

"We got apple and orange juice, beer, white wine, milk—I could make tea or coffee—"

Daryl's list of what was on offer was stopped by her right hand on his arm pulling him back towards her as the left one shut the refrigerator door. Carol took his hand in hers and led him to the big old leather couch in front of the fireplace on the wall opposite the kitchen.

"What I'd really like is... for you to kiss me some more, is that okay?" Carol asked and Daryl gave her a slow grin, sat down and pulled her into his lap and proceeded to kiss the hell out of her.

_Her lips..._Daryl thought, _he could write verses about her lips_. Not just soft and warm and sweet, but full of want—he knew that she _wanted_ his kisses. He could tell she liked the rough scrape of his moustache and beard against her face, her neck as he kissed his way down, the way she held the back of his head, the little whimpering sounds she made. After awhile they'd begun to reach a tipping point, his shirt was open and his fingers were tracing the belly line between her jeans and her blouse, his mouth closed over one firm nipple, sucking down on it through the fabric of her blouse and bra, making her moan and pull on his hair painfully, but he liked it...too much...

And then they were interrupted by the little insistent voice from above.

"Sophia honey, this is my friend Miss Carol." Daryl said in a soft drawl, "Carol, this is my daughter Sophia Suzanne. Say hey Soph."

"Hey Miss Carol. Are you guys having a sleep over?" Sophia asked with shy innocence, but Carol gave Daryl a measured look, silently asking if this was something to which he regularly exposed his young child.

Daryl's eyes darkened and he frowned slightly but then his attention was drawn back to his daughter who continued to speak with uncharacteristic ease. Sophia was usually shy with new people.

"I wanna have Carl over for a sleep over, but daddy says that ain't appro...appro-pri-ate 'coz he's a boy." Sophia said in a voice that got more indignant as she went along, "Only difference I can see 'tween me n'boys is they can pee standin' up. I don't think that's fair, do you Miss Carol?"

Carol blinked. She wasn't sure if the question was of the fairness of her request for a sleepover or the anatomical quirks that nature had seen fit to impose on the sexes.

Sophia came up closer and looked Carol over assessingly.

"I'm eight—you have freckles like me. This is Casey." she held up her doll for Carol to see and then reached out her small hand and petted the older woman's short auburn curls, "You look like Anna. Can I get that pretty white in my hair too?" she said, touching the white streaked widow's peak in the hair on Carol's brow.

"Anna?" Carol asked, wondering if that was another of the women Daryl had brought home.

"From _Frozen_—she watches it every day. Several times a day if I let her." Daryl said wryly, while unobtrusively buttoning up his shirt.

"My middle name _is_ Anne." Carol told them with a small smile. She'd seen the film—Glenn and Tara had the Blu-Ray and even sang along with the songs—but she'd never associated _herself_ with the selfless heroic sister in it.

"See dad? She's _Anna_!" Sophia said triumphantly, launching herself at Carol for a hug over the back of the couch. Surprised, Carol caught the ebullient child up in her arms and was overwhelmed by the sweet smelling riot of strawberry blonde locks that swept her face and the giddy warmth of the embrace.

Carol loved kids. It was the reason she'd decided to go back to school to be a teacher. She'd been unable to have any of her own—Ed would never let her get tested to see if it was her problem or his—but after he'd shown his true colors she was glad she hadn't had to subject a child to living in a home with him as a father.

Daryl's daughter was adorable—full of life and energy just like him. If her math was right he'd had her when he was only nineteen... And there had also been no mention of the mother. She knew it was none of her business, but of course she was curious about his domestic situation now that it had been sort of thrown in her face. The idea that he might be married had really never occurred to her... God, how rusty _was_ she with this sort of thing? She'd just assumed he was single and free to follow through on his flirty promises.

"We need some hot chocolate, daddy." Sophia announced, climbing up onto the back of the couch and swinging her legs around to Carol and Daryl's side before she slid down into the space between them. She grasped Daryl's hand, her doll tucked under her arm and after a moment she snuck her other hand across to Carol's, just placing her palm over the top of it, letting it rest there, feather light, unsure of her welcome.

"Do you like hot chocolate Miss Carol Anna?" Sophia asked in a hopeful voice.

Carol looked over top of the girl's head to Daryl who was looking down at his daughter with an indulgently patient expression. His eyes rose to meet Carol's, still with that slight warm smile on his face, unguarded, not the cocky brash man she'd met earlier this evening, but a father who loved his little girl.

"Do you?" Daryl said softly, smiling at her, "We have marshmallows."

"The little ones?" Carol said, returning his smile.

"The little ones." Daryl nodded.

"Then yes, I'd like some hot chocolate." Carol replied and Sophia looked up at her with a wide grin.

"Soph, can you go find the marshmallows for Miss Carol?" Daryl asked the girl.

"Okay." Sophia said agreeably and then she gave Carol's hand a quick squeeze before she jumped up and made her way to the kitchen.

Daryl slid closer to Carol on the couch, his voice pitched low so Sophia wouldn't overhear.

"Just so you know; her momma's out of the picture; has been for a long while now."

"It's none of my business—"

"Yeah. It is." Daryl said, taking her hand, still talking softly, "I don't ever bring women here when my daughter is home. She was s'posed to be spending the night at her grandma's. I want you to know that too."

The little vertical line that appeared between Carol's brows charmed him—the way she looked—like she wanted to believe what he was telling her, believe he was a good person, a good father, believe in her attraction to him, but she was fighting with herself, her first impulse always to distrust.

"You just met me, and you don't know that much about me," Daryl leaned closer, placing his mouth to her ear as he'd done earlier in the art studio. "You should also know I like you—probably more than I should admit to on such short acquaintance." Carol blushed as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"We're pretty obviously attracted to one another—n' I won't lie—right about now I expected to be mapping your luscious freckles head to toe with my tongue..." he purred and gave her that dirty flirty look she'd seen from him while he'd been posing.

"But my kid is the most important thing in the world to me." Daryl said with quiet force.

Carol pulled slightly away, glancing to the kitchen. Sophia was busying herself with gathering not only the marshmallows, but the mugs, pan, milk and Hershey's syrup. The kitchen was arranged to give her access to the safe cooking implements and she knew her way around it like a pro, moving a stool to help her belly up to the counter.

"I can't leave Soph here alone or drag her out this late to run you home, so after we have our cocoa, we're gonna have us a slumber party. I'm gonna camp out here on the couch and you can have my room." Daryl stood up, bringing Carol up with him. "I got the day off tomorrow...in the mornin' we'll all have some breakfast and I'll put her on the school bus and then...well, then, Carol Anna, you can decide what you want to do—that sound like a plan?"

Senoia was too small to have a city cab service and short of riding her bike the fifteen miles back to Woodbury in the dark or calling someone to come get her, Carol was stuck here for the night. Daryl hoped his offer of a safe place to sleep, alone, would help her be comfortable enough to stay.

"Clean sheets on the bed." Daryl added, as if that might ease her mind and then he gave a little laugh at the absurdity. He'd put clean sheets on his bed because he'd planned on bringing someone home from class...and it was her...but wasn't it just the way things went in his life recently that she'd be sleeping there alone?

"I don't want to kick you out of your own bed, I'll take the couch." Carol said with determination.

"Don't argue with me when I'm being a gentleman." Daryl chided gently, softening it further with a grin. "You're a guest."

Carol wrinkled her nose at him, but finally nodded in agreement and let him lead her to the kitchen, where a very happy child chattered on about everything from _Frozen_ to whether they should have waffles or pancakes for breakfast while they measured and poured the milk and chocolate and waited for it to heat so they could add exactly seven marshmallows, no more no less.

And Daryl tried not to think too hard on why his throat tightened when he saw his usually shy little girl giggling and talking so easily with the patient plucky grown up Disney princess he'd inadvertently brought into their lives.

* * *

><p><em>I realize it was a bit of a different choice to make Sophia Daryl's daughter &amp; not Carol's, but I liked the idea of him being a single father and what that could bring to his character. I also kept his mother alive to give him more of a family dynamic to play with in addition to Merle. <em>

_Thanks for reading-let me know what you think if you have time!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Unexpected visitors complicate Carol and Daryl's morning._

* * *

><p><em>3)<em>

Carol smelled coffee and stretched her arms up above her head with a contented smile. She opened her eyes and looked up at the pointed arch stained glass window on the wall opposite. Although she hadn't expected to be in it alone she'd slept very well in Daryl's extremely comfortable bed, its headboard made from an elaborately carved wooden door laid on its side, another one of his salvaged material builds.

The window looked like it could have come out of a church, some female saint or angel in a long white gown, the glass actually bunched and curved with three dimensional ridges like real cloth. Starting above her shoulders there were pastel and gold tipped wings, glowing in the early morning light, the feathers flowing gracefully from her back to curve around her body. In her hands, held low at her waist, she held a several arrows and she was surrounded by a frame of curved green tendrils bearing leaves and white flowers with yellow gold centers. It was beautiful work, in the style of Louis Comfort Tiffany, the famous nineteenth century craftsman. The only curious thing was where the face of the angel or saint should be, there was instead a blank circle of clear glass bordered by a partial haloed crown of the same white flowers.

Carol got out of the bed and padded over to the window to get a better look at the glass, curious about it. She was looking for a studio name or symbol that she knew was often etched into one of the lower corner panels, but the wooden frame rose too high up onto the window's edge for her to see anything definitive. She'd learned a bit about stained glass in an American Art History course she'd taken years ago in her one year of college before she'd married Ed.

They'd met the summer after she'd graduated high school, when she'd been a line worker in his father's factory. After a yearlong courtship, during which he constantly complained that her school work kept her too busy, she'd been coerced into not returning for her sophomore year. In reality he was removing her ability to have friends outside of his sphere of influence and try to preclude her from improving herself. A degree meant opportunity, a job outside the home, out of his control.

She'd been so young, naive, swept off her feet, plucked from the line by the bosses' big bold smiling well-dressed son into a life of wealth and privilege. It was all too good to be true; she'd felt like a princess... but there was always a wolf or a witch or a beast in those grim tales, wasn't there? Ed's well honed polish had been a veneer, like the wolf in lamb's wool or granny's hat and nightgown; his true character was as evil as any in the storybooks.

Sighing, she went over to her backpack sitting on the floor next to the chair and rooted around in the front pocket until she found a pack of Tic Tacs and tossed a few back, crunching on them, a nervous habit that soothed her with the added benefit this time of ridding her of some morning breath, mostly chocolate laced with Guinness, her odd combination of libations from last evening in Daryl's company. Next she pulled her sketch pad out and her pencil kit and sat back down on the bed to begin drawing the maiden in the window.

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door and Carol looked down at the red sleeveless WTFD (Woodbury Town Fire Department) t-shirt she was wearing as a sleep garment, borrowed from Daryl, and quickly glanced to the chair where she'd left her clothes. Always an early riser, she'd rinsed out her panties in the bathroom downstairs and hung them to dry on the shower curtain rod last night, thinking she'd be up before anyone else so she could retrieve them in the morning. As a result currently her ass was literally hanging out under the hem of the oversize shirt. She could try to quickly slip on her jeans, or jump back into the bed or just stay where she was...but it could be either Daryl or Sophia or both so she did a quick butt hop and skip back, burrowing her legs under the covers, her tablet and pencils falling to the floor, forgotten in her haste.

"Carol? You awake?" Daryl's deep morning baritone called her name, knocking again.

"Awake." Carol called, her own voice a bit husky this morning. It was only 6:30 a.m. according to the bedside clock.

The door slid open—it was an industrial or farm style top slider with heavy hardware, and the door itself had the peeling paint patina that came with age, but had been given a clear top coat to seal it and keep the surface from flaking further. Carol was impressed with the retro funky practical way that Daryl had furnished and decorated his home. Art of all kinds from photographs to paintings and sculptures to more glass were displayed in every room. She liked old things, kitschy things, personal things, but had never been able to indulge her whims in the sleek modern metal and leather aesthetic of her husband's home, product of the most expensive interior design firm in town. Some day, when she had her own place, she imagined it looking a lot like this one.

Daryl entered, carrying what looked like a small bundle of clothes draped over his arm. He was in his bare feet, wearing low slung jeans and a slightly different version of the WTFD sleeveless tee in black, which showed off his muscular arms to great effect. With his easy going manner, tats, slightly damp shaggy mane, facial hair and amazing body he was the polar opposite of her painfully well groomed never a hair out of place ex; something she must have noted at least subconsciously last night as part of her attraction to him.

"Here's my bathrobe, if you want to put that on." Daryl held up a faded red flannel shirt material robe. "Or if you want to shower and then get dressed, there's some stuff in under the bathroom sink that my mom leaves here for when she stays over to watch Soph...deodorant, extra toothbrushes and such and here's your...um..."

For the first time since she'd met him Daryl seemed flustered, almost embarrassed as he held out her panties. They were practical, not what Carol would consider sexy in any way, bikini cut cotton with little forget-me-nots scattered all over them. She wore them because they worked with the low rise of her jeans and were also comfy. She hadn't been expecting to go home with the naked guy in her drawing class so no lacy wisp of nothing thong for her. Nope, Carol was a sturdy serviceable panties kind of gal.

"They fell down...when I got in to take my shower? Got all wet so I tossed 'em in the dryer—hope that's okay—hope that it didn't shrink 'em or nothing—I mean you hung 'em up to dry so afterwards I thought, well, maybe they can't go in the dryer, ya know? I put Sophia's in the dryer, but they're little girls ones and maybe yours are different?"

He was adorable. She could see the bloom of color rising on his neck the longer he talked.

Carol wondered just how long had it been since he'd lived with a woman. He'd said Sophia's mother had been out of the picture for a long while. She also thought that maybe none the other women he'd brought home with him seemed to have been allowed to stay through till the next morning like this.

"They'll be fine. I usually put them in the washer and dryer with the rest of the laundry," Carol reassured him.

"Not exactly how I expected to finally get to see these..." Daryl looked relieved and then gave her a little quirk of a smile, slowly returning to form, running his thumb over the soft cotton as he walked closer to the bed. He paused, tilting his head slightly and staring at the outline of her body under the covers as if just coming to a realization. He tossed both the underwear and the robe onto the chair with the rest of her clothes and came around the side of the bed.

Carol watched him slide into seduction mode, almost as if a switch had been flipped. He sat down on the side of the bed next to her and leaned closer, catching her up in a sweetly lingering kiss.

"Good morning." Daryl said softly.

"Good morning." Carol replied, trying to suppress her smile, deepening the dimples in her cheeks. Oh, Daryl Dixon definitely knew how to play the smooth operator, but she'd just seen the nice guy underneath who got flustered by a pair of cotton undies; the sweet guy who stayed calm and put his kid's welfare first last night, and also had the courtesy to treat her as a guest and give her a place to sleep where she'd feel safe. That was why she'd stayed when she could've easily called Glenn or Andrea to come and get her.

"That shirt work okay for you?" Daryl asked, running his fingers under the collar, letting them brush over her collar bone.

"Very comfortable, thank you." Carol told him somewhat primly, her turn to tease.

"I like you in my shirt… think I'd like you even better out of it…" Daryl growled, dipping his head low and nipping at her neck and licking his way up to her ear. Carol turned her face to his so their lips met again and his hand found the back of her neck, slipping up through her short curls to cradle her head and hold her to him. Her arms went around his shoulders, pulling him closer, enjoying the feel of his bigger solid warm body against her, falling back against the pillows as he joined her more fully on the bed, stretching out beside her, his arms going around her as well, the kisses growing more intimate, Daryl's mouth moving over hers with growing passion until suddenly he froze at the touch of a small cold hand on his bare shoulder.

"I know what _you're_ doing." the small high voice lilted with a giggle.

Daryl shut his eyes briefly and swore under his breath; he'd neglected to close and lock the door. When he opened his eyes Carol looked stricken, her big blues wide with embarrassment. They were still both decently clothed or covered, just kissing, but this still wasn't something he did in front of his kid. He'd always been careful to keep his sex life away from her impressionable eyes.

"You're _wrestling!"_ Sophia announced, jumping up onto the bed so she could bounce all around them. Daryl and Carol shared a slightly shamed, relieved smile and pulled apart.

"And I think my daddy was _winning_." Soph said and then jumped on Daryl, making him _oof_ out a breath as he moved to catch her so she wouldn't jump up onto Carol as well. Sophia countered by giggling harder and trying to tickle Daryl anywhere she could reach, but her daddy just flipped her in his arms and tossed her down onto the bed next to Carol so he could move in to tickle her gently.

"Help me Miss Carolanna!" Sophia cried, appealing to her new friend, squealing with laughter as she tried to evade Daryl.

Carol sat up, careful to keep the covers over her lower body and reached out both hands, finding Daryl's waist, smoothing her fingers over the hot skin where his shirt had ridden up in his exertions, intending to tickle him, but Daryl froze again at the other decidedly different cool hands pressed to his flesh, electric. He shuddered slightly and looked back at Carol, his mouth open in surprise.

"Oooo! I'm free! Thank you!" Sophia crowed to Carol, wriggling out from Daryl's loosened grasp and neck lacing Carol, forcing her to break contact with Daryl as her arms went around the child for a hug.

Daryl slid off of the bed and stood, tugging on the bottom of his shirt and looking a bit confused. He'd just been talking about getting her naked, had intended to have spent all of last night _being_ naked _with_ her here in his bed, so why the hell did the soft touch of her hands on his bare skin just now make him feel like she'd reached in his chest and grabbed hold of his heart?

Carol's eyes met his questioningly over Sophia's shoulder and Daryl forced a benign smile to his lips.

"Who's ready for waffles?" Daryl asked and Sophia let go of Carol and bounced off the bed.

"Can I Pam the girdle?" Sophia asked excitedly, hopping back and forth from one foot to the other. Her favorite part other than eating the waffles was applying the no-stick cooking spray to the old fashioned waffle iron.

"_Griddle_ and yes." Daryl nodded, "Let's go start breakfast so Miss Carol can get dressed."

"Miss Carol_anna_, daddy." Sophia reminded him in her wise patient little girl voice. Then she waved at Carol and headed down stairs, pulling her father behind her.

Carol waited until she heard them hit the steps and then got out of the bed, moving to the chair, lifting and wrapping the red robe around her, smelling traces of Daryl, warm and comforting. She put on the robe and gathered her clothes, stuffing her panties in between her jeans and blouse next to her bra, and then she followed after them, heading for the bathroom downstairs.

"Well, what do we have here, baby bro? You hire yerself a nanny?" the deep drawl startled Carol. As did the slow up and down perusal from the pale rail thin man in cowboy boots, an ill-fitting western shirt and jeans with an Atlanta Falcons ball cap perched on his close shaven head. He'd just finished stepping out of the passenger side of the cream yellow Jeep Cherokee parked in Daryl's driveway, blocking the path to the street end where they'd been walking Sophia to catch the school bus after breakfast.

The older woman getting out of the driver's side looked concerned, staring at Sophia's hand held in Carol's and then back up at her face with a frown.

"Daryl?" the woman's hair was not any color that occurred in nature—a vivid rust auburn—it was obvious that she was not giving in to whatever her true age might be. Her trim figure in the fitted pink scrubs added to the illusion, but the smile lines around her mouth and hint of crow's feet at her eyes told a different story.

"Hey Nana, hey Uncle Merle—this is daddy and me's new friend Carolanna. She came over for a sleep over with daddy last night." Sophia blithely announced, making Carol wince and raising both Uncle Merle and Nana's brows high up onto their foreheads. Then as one they turned to give the same look to Daryl.

"You care to explain why I came home to find Sophia here all alone?" Daryl asked, going in the offensive, ignoring the implicit question in his mother and brother's eyes. Neither of them had responded to his phone calls or texts last night asking for an explanation.

"Tha's my fault." Merle sighed with a look of absolute weariness, swaying a little on his feet. His mother's arm immediately came under his elbow to offer support, but he shrugged her off and instead leaned with deliberate casualness against the hood of the Jeep.

The sound of a horn honking drew all their attention to the end of the drive way where a big yellow-orange school bus sat idling.

"That's my bus!" Sophia announced proudly, hiking her little Hello Kitty! back pack up on her shoulder. She proceeded to give everyone present a hug and kiss goodbye, including Carol, though she reserved her longest embrace for Uncle Merle, telling him she hoped he'd feel better soon. All eyes followed her as she skipped down the drive and ascended the stairs, turning at the top to wave before disappearing into the seats. The driver exchanged a salute with Daryl and then closed the door as the bus lumbered away.

"How two people as sour as you and Phil ever ended up with a child that sweet is beyond me." Merle intoned a bit wistfully then looked at Daryl with a smirk.

"Her looks she gets from Philomena, her sweet personality is all _me_, except when she's crotchety—that's all _Dixon_." said the girl's grandmother in a no nonsense, don't argue with me tone.

"She has Daryl's eyes." Carol murmured, drawing the two newcomer's keen attention back to her. Carol struggled not to blush without much success and Daryl came closer, resting his hand on the small of her back in support.

"I didn't realize you were serious datin' anyone, boy." Merle said, again giving Carol that up and down look. "Don't know that carrying on a lil' _slumber party_ with Soph sleeping just down the hall is such a good idea…"

"Just how long have you known my son and granddaughter, _Carolanna,_ was it?" Mama Dixon quizzed, giving Carol a measuring look.

"Enough with the third degree, mom." Daryl said firmly, "And it's just Carol."

"Sophia thinks I look like Anna in _Frozen_." Carol said self-deprecatingly, raising her hand to touch the white hair on her brow.

"Eleanor Dixon," Daryl and Merle's mother said introducing herself, holding out her hand to Carol, still frowning.

"Just Carol? Like Cher?" Merle cackled, amused, but his laugh degenerated into a ragged cough that had him leaning back harder against the car and then bending forward at the waist. Both Daryl and Ellie moved to flank him, making sure he could remain standing.

"Why aren't you back in the hospital?" Daryl bit out, obviously concerned and distressed at his brother's condition.

"Spent all fuckin' night there, ain't goin' back." Merle wheezed and spit bright blood onto the pavement in front of him.

"What the hell, Merle?" Daryl said, angry now, "You got three more—"

"God damned shit makes me feel like I'as already dead…dead man walkin'….fuckin' zombie…I'm _done_ with it." Merle railed in the loudest voice he could muster, barely able to catch his breath. Daryl's arm came under his brother's; supporting him and Merle tried to shrug him off like he'd done to Ellie earlier, but after a short ineffectual struggle he gave in and leaned on Daryl.

"Mom?" Daryl asked, looking for her support.

"I'm done arguing with him." Ellie hook her head in defeat, "If he doesn't want to go back that's his choice, but he can't be left alone."

"Then let's get him inside." Daryl said firmly, looking over Merle's head to his mother, "Can you stay with him while I run Carol home? She lives in Woodbury and she's got a class to get to."

Ellie pursed her lips, glaring at Carol judgmentally until Merle's hacking cough drew her attention back to her sons. Frowning with resignation, she nodded and put Merle's other arm over her shoulder to help Daryl get him to the house, Carol going first to open doors for them.

* * *

><p>"It's lung cancer." Daryl said into the quiet of the truck cab. They'd ridden in silence since leaving Senoia, each lost in their own thoughts about the events of the last day or so. She'd told him over breakfast that she had a 10:30 class and needed to get back so she had time to stop at home first to get her books and change. At the time they thought they'd have, as Daryl put it, <em>a couple of hours alone together to get to know each other better<em>, but Merle and Ellie's arrival had made that impossible.

It was only 7:55 when they arrived at Carol's place, so they had time to talk, but she had been waiting for him to begin, not wanting to push.

"He's only 39… but he's been smoking since he was twelve…got sick the first time three years ago. Even with mom bein' a nurse it took us almost six months to talk him into getting it checked out." Daryl leaned against the side window frame, staring out the front windshield.

Carol just sat and watched him, waiting him out.

"Stubborn asshole... always said the only thing that could kill Merle was Merle." Daryl sighed, lifting his thumb to his mouth and gnawing on the cuticle. When he realized what he was doing he grimaced and spit out the open window. Bad habit for someone who worked with leaded glass.

"What stage is he? Four?" Carol asked in a soft voice. Four was end stage. Metastatic. Trying to stop the spread of satellite seed tumors with chemo or radiation or both, willing to try anything for a chance at a few more months of life, then realizing the cure was worse than the disease, tired of being so sick and tired, letting go...

Daryl looked over at her, noticing for the first time the tears running silently down her face.

"Aw hell, this isn't fair to you—you don't deserve to have to listen to my worries—m'sorry, Carol." he murmured, huffing out a breath, as if he was sorry for burdening her.

"My mother. Fifteen years ago. Ovarian." Carol said, her mouth working, wiping at the corners of her eyes, at her cheeks with both hands, denying the tears.

"_Shit_ Carol." Daryl unsnapped his seat belt and slid across to her, sounding guilty for making her relive that hurt. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she sat stiffly, afraid to let go; afraid if she accepted his sympathy, his comfort that she wouldn't be able to stop, that she would drown with him in commiseration—his brother, her mother—the love and loss was too much to bear alone any more. Her father had closed himself off to it, remarrying only a few months after her mother's death. Ed acknowledged her stepmother as her maternal parent, refusing to discuss a woman who died years before they met, in effect denying her existence.

Carol reached down and unhooked her seatbelt and put her other hand on the door handle, readying herself to flee. Daryl wouldn't understand; he had his own pain to deal with, how could he understand?

"Fuck cancer." Daryl growled, his fingers closing over the sleeve of her blouse, gripping the white cotton tightly in his fist, stopping her escape.

"Fuck it." Carol slowly raised her eyes to his and saw the same anger she'd felt for so long and nodded in agreement. "I was fifteen. I needed my mom and fucking cancer took her from me." And then she waited for him to talk about Merle, giving him his turn to tell his tale.

"You still need her," Daryl said, trying to imagine his life without his mom, "Tell me about her?" he asked softly and Carol almost fell apart. Her chin fell to her chest as she tried to hold in the welling of emotion that his offer to just _listen _to her talk about her mom pulled from her. She let him draw her closer, finally accepting a bit of the comfort he offered with the side embrace, resting the side of his face on the top of her head.

Carol talked about her mother then, telling stories and answering questions—Daryl was a good listener—and then she asked him to tell her about Merle, this time really interested in what he had to say about his much older brother.

It was 9:35 when next she glanced at her watch and she told him that she really needed to get ready for class and he should get back home to his mom and brother.

"This is the strangest first date I've ever had." Daryl chuckled ruefully, holding her hand, rubbing circles over her knuckles with his thumb.

"Is that really what this has been?" Carol asked, still not quite over her expectation of a mind blowing one night stand with the hottest man she'd ever met to celebrate her independence. This had been so much more.

"I don't think my daughter would ever forgive me if I let her Anna get away," Daryl teased, but instead of smiling back at him, Carol looked pensive.

"Could I see Sophia again even if...if _you_ didn't want to see me again?" Carol asked. She'd grown quite fond of the girl in the little bit of time they'd spent together.

"I don't think that's going to be our problem, Carolanna." Daryl smiled, capturing her chin in his hand and tilting it up to place another devastatingly perfect kiss on her lips.

_The man should teach classes_, _he really should._ Carol thought, feeling a bit dazed from the kiss and all of the high emotion, _more men should know how to do __that._

"I have to go...to class..._now._.." Carol breathed against his mouth and he reluctantly released her.

"Wait!" he said abruptly and opened his door and jumped out, then ran around the front so he could open her door for her, helping her down.

"Thank you," Carol said as he lifted her bicycle and back pack out of the back for her and insisted on wheeling it to the bike rack in front of the house.

"May I have your number?" Daryl asked, handing her the back pack which she slung over her shoulder just like Sophia had done this morning with her Hello Kitty! He felt like a nervous high school kid, reaching in his pocket for his cell phone and holding it out to her. He was relieved when she didn't hesitate, but took it immediately and punched in the digits. No games. He said he wanted to see her again and she believed him.

He liked that.

He liked her.

"I'll talk to you soon." Daryl promised, giving her one last swift kiss before he strode back down the sidewalk, got in his truck and drove away.

Carol stood there on the front stoop staring off in the direction of Senoia until her elderly landlady, Mrs. McCloud, came out with her yappy little fur ball Pom-Poo Pasha and asked her if she was quite all right.

"You look a little dazed this good morning, my dear. Anything to do with the fact you're still wearing the same clothes you left here in yesterday and that hunk and a half with a pickup who just dropped you off?" she asked shrewdly. "Is this that _walk of shame_ I've been hearing so much about?

"Good morning to you too, Mrs. McCloud." Carol said with a dazzling smile, breezing on by the old woman to run upstairs and get ready for an Education methods class there was no chance in hell she'd be able to concentrate on, especially since Tara was in it too and would be all over her for juicy details about last night.

Even though it had been nothing like she'd expected Carol realized that it had been even better. They'd actually started something; made an unexpected connection; had more in common than she'd ever dreamed.

She liked that.

She liked him.

* * *

><p>Models for Daryl's bedroom stained glass window: 87134/8159260253_89f291e763_

image0-rubylane. shops/antiquariantraders/7547. ?39

_Possibilities of who the window's subject is:_

_Saint#1, "Friend or Lover of the Light" was a 13 yr. old virgin Christian martyr under Emp. Diocletian, whose offer of marriage she refused. He then tried to kill her by drowning with anchor around her neck, and when God spared her, had his archers shoot her full of arrows & when that also failed, finally beheaded her._

_Saint #2's symbols are a crown (as a British princess) and the arrow with which she was killed by the prince of the Huns as she returned from a pilgrimage to Rome._ _Also a maiden shot with arrows, often accompanied by a varied number of companions (11,000 virgins) who are being martyred in assorted, often creative ways. Other symbols: clock, and/or ship._

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think if you have time. This one is coming easy for now;-)


	4. Chapter 4

Friends and family tease out a bit of exposition explaining both Daryl and Carol's backgrounds and motivations for their actions as they decide how to move their relationship forward.

* * *

><p>4)<p>

"If you don't tell me I'm texting Glenn right now." Tara said, cornering Carol as they waited for the previous class to vacate the class room for their Methods course that began in ten minutes or so.

"It's not what you think." Carol told her, pulling her a little further down the hallway and into a stairwell, away from the curious eyes of a few of their classmates leaning or sitting against the hall way walls chatting and texting.

"Your allergies acting up? You have the flu? Because why else would your eyes and nose be so red and blotchy unless you were crying?" Tara asked pointedly, "I swear to God, Carol if that smooth talker hurt you—"

"Daryl would never hurt me." Carol said softly, realizing how naive that must sound when she'd known him less than twenty-four hours, but somehow knowing it was true. They'd made a connection last night and even more so this morning. She eased herself down onto one of the lower steps, dropping her back pack on the floor in front of her and then leaning back against the side wall.

Tara pulled a disbelieving face, but took the statement at face value for the moment and moved on in her interrogation. She'd been looking forward to teasing Carol about her hot night with the gorgeous man candy she'd shown up with at the pub, but instead the older woman looked pensive and weepy.

"Then what is it? What's wrong, hon?" Tara asked, sitting beside Carol and putting her hand on her shoulder. She liked the elfin red head with the quiet patient manner. Carol was a good balance to Glenn's exuberance and Andrea's cynicism in their little circle of friends and even though Carol was several years older than she, Tara felt protective of her. Carol had confided a little of what she'd gone through in her marriage and they'd all been thrilled to see the interest that Daryl and she had taken in each other last night. The idea that maybe he wasn't the nice guy he had appeared to be had made Tara kick herself for letting Carol go off with him.

"I just… I've been thinking about my mother. That's all." Carol said, not really wanting to discuss what had prompted that particular sad topic-Daryl's private life-with Tara. She'd only been let in on his family situation because she happened to be there, not because he'd chosen to tell her about it all on his own. Things had spun a bit out of control and what was supposed to be a one night stand had morphed into something else she couldn't quite reconcile with what she'd initially believed him to be.

"Your mom?" Tara asked. She'd never heard Carol talk about anyone in her family except her ex.

"It's just September…she passed away in September…" Carol said, giving her friend an apologetic little smile.

"Oh Carol—I'm so sorry—I had no idea." She looked stricken and slid her arm all the way around Carol's shoulder, much as Daryl had done in the truck only a couple of hour earlier.

"It was a long time ago…back when I was in high school." Carol murmured, "Really, I'm fine, just a little blue today, that's all, okay?" she patted Tara's knee, signaling she was grateful for the support, but ready to move on to another topic and Tara frowned at her and sighed. She knew that Carol was a very private person and didn't want to push her into talking about something that was so obviously painful for her.

"You know I'm here—if you need to talk about anything—right?" Tara settled for saying.

Carol gave her a tight but warm smile and nodded, looking only a little bit like she was forcing the calm to cover some deeper emotion.

"We should get to class." Carol reminded her classmate and Tara flash popped her phone and swore.

"Shit—we're gonna get shut out if we don't haul ass!"

They both knew that this particular prof was a hard ass stickler who locked the classroom door at one minute after the time set for the class to begin and accepted no late comers. They scrambled to get up and grab their stuff, running down the hallway, luckily not to too far away. Just as they slid to a stop in front of the door, joining the queue waiting to enter, Tara turned back to Carol.

"So nothing happened?" she asked. "Last night? With the drop dead gorgeous guy you drove off with? The one you'd already _seen naked?_"

"I wouldn't say _nothing_." Carol admitted after quickly shushing Tara and looking around to make sure no one had overheard.

"Oh, it's _way_ too late for that, C." Tara laughed, "You were seen hanging with him at the pub and then getting into his pickup. The word's out. You're the one chatted up by the hot model. _You_—not princess Barbie or Xena Dreadlocks, not my precious Glennie or our lovely Andrea. _You._ You're a _goddess_. _Own it_."

Carol looked nonplussed. _A goddess?_ Little Carol Anne had never been much before. She'd always been an under the radar sort of person. Good grades but not top of the class, cute but not beautiful, middle class not rich nor poor, friends with some of the popular crowd as well as some of the geeks, stoners and jocks in her classes and the couple of clubs she joined—French and Art—to have something to put on her college applications. There had never been anything too remarkable about Carol as far as she was concerned.

"So?" Tara prompted. "What's _nothing_?"

"He's a very good kisser." Carol blurted, blushed a bit and showed a dimple, suppressing her small satisfied smile.

"_Promising…"_ Tara nodded, glad to see Carol's mood brightening a bit when she talked about Daryl.

They had almost made it to the door where the prof was collecting the paper due today as a toll for entering the room. Tara and Carol were not big fans of his. His rigidly enforced rules and condescending attitude, especially towards the women in class, seemed to be reflected in the fussiness of his suit and bow tie and the shine on his wing tips. He was _way_ too tightly wound.

"Ms. Chambler." The tall dark haired man said officiously, holding out the lid of a computer printer paper box in which they were to deposit their assignments.

"Dr. Blake." Tara replied in the same stiff formal tone, handing over her paper with a flourish.

"Thank you." Blake nodded and then turned to Carol. "Mrs. Peletier?"

Carol hated that. She'd gone back to her maiden name after the divorce, but the university Registrar's office hadn't processed the change of name paperwork yet and until it showed up on the official class roster Dr. B. refused to call her anything else.

"Yes sir." Carol said evenly, handing over her paper, refusing to grant him the respect of saying his formal academic title, cool as ice.

Blake narrowed his eyes at her but accepted it and moved to the next in line.

As Tara and Carol made their way to their seats, the younger woman leaned close and whispered to Carol with a smirk,

"See? A _goddess._"

* * *

><p>"So what ya think you're doin' with that mousey gal, boy?" Merle rasped from his place on the couch when Daryl returned after ferrying Carol back to Woodbury. His mother was busy cooking breakfast, trying to coax Merle into eating something and Daryl paused there at the kitchen counter to grab one of the big hand-thrown ceramic mugs and load it up with coffee.<p>

"None a' your business, that's what." Daryl said in a low growl. He hadn't figured out himself just what he wanted to do about Carol, and he sure as hell wasn't ready to play twenty questions about her with his brother.

"Now don't be all pissy, Derlina. You got her comin' round _my niece_, spendin' the night here; I gotta right to know what you got goin' on in that head a 'yours." Merle argued.

"He's right Daryl. Who is she to be so close to my granddaughter?" Ellie asked, pausing in the process of moving the eggs around in the frying pan.

"What about you leaving your precious granddaughter here all by herself without even bothering to call and tell me? What if I hadn't come home last night?" Daryl railed at her. "All you had to do was keep an eye on her!"

"When he stopped by to check on the job this weekend, Marty found your brother passed out on the floor of his apartment. He took him to the ER and they called me. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"Call _me_ for Christ's sake!" Daryl said, incredulous that she hadn't.

"You never answer your cell phone when you're working at the University and you were due home anyhow." Ellie said dismissively, "I used to leave you alone when you were Sophia's age—she's not a baby."

"If you'll recall, mother, I also wandered off _looking_ for you when I was Sophia's age and got lost in the _woods_." Daryl said dryly. Off on a bender, Ellie had been known to leave her sons home alone for days at a time while she chased after the promise of some new man.

"And you found your way home, no worse for wear." Ellie sniffed, unwilling to admit that in her drinking days she'd been less than mother of the year material.

"Three days later!" Daryl bit out, blowing on the hot coffee in his mug. "No one even knew I was missin'."

Merle was gone by then, working construction up in Atlanta, sending home what money he could to keep them going, their daddy long gone. It wasn't until after the fire that destroyed their home a year later that Eleanor had finally been shocked into getting her shit together and get sober.

Realizing you could have killed yourself and your kid with your drinking did that to a person.

"Wiped my ass with poison oak," Daryl muttered, taking a sip of coffee, "Itched somethin' awful."

Merle grinned and then chortled, making Daryl swear at him,

"Fuck you, laughin' at my itchy ass!" but then he smiled too and next thing they knew they were all laughing over a shitty childhood memory that didn't show any of them in the best light.

"You're a real good daddy to that little girl, Daryl." Merle said when they finally stopped. "But I figure now she's in school all day, she's wondering why all her little friends got mommas and she don't."

"Have you tried to contact Phil lately, Daryl?" Ellie asked quietly, pulling plates from the open cupboard rack and dishing out three portions of eggs and bacon.

Sophia's mother, Philomena, had been Daryl's first girlfriend. A good student, but shy to the point of barely speaking to girls all throughout junior high and high school, Daryl had vowed to himself that he'd remake himself after graduation. His first step was to become a fire fighter. After watching his momma be rescued from their burning home when he was nine, it had become his life's ambition.

Over the next two years he'd put on twenty pounds of muscle, gotten several tattoos and made it through fire school. He no longer looked the part of the skinny shy nerdy guy, but he still felt like one inside. Being a fireman wasn't enough—he wished it was, but it just didn't give him the intellectual challenge that he needed in his work. When they asked for volunteers to become paramedic EMTs he jumped at the chance, passing the entrance exams for the program easily, then enrolling in the two year course at the local community/technical college.

Daryl had taken drawing, painting and sculpture classes all throughout high school, but had made a conscious choice to turn his back on all of that when he went to fire school. Other than designing the demon tattoos that graced his back, he hadn't done any serious art in years. As part of his general requirements for the EMT program, he had to take a Humanities course. When he found out that the tech school had art as a choice he was intrigued enough to sign up, a choice that put him in Philomena's path.

They'd met in stained glass class.

A dancer, Philomena's ambition was to move to New York and study with one of the premier companies. She was putting in a year taking generals to appease her parents who wouldn't sign off on her going to New York until she turned eighteen. A delicate strawberry blonde with a spine of steel and flashing ice blue eyes, she was known as much for her fiery temper as for her cool beauty. She'd cut her hand badly on a piece of glass she'd been trying to force into the pattern of the window panel she was working on in class and Daryl had come to her rescue.

The handsome quick thinking fireman, two years older but shy as a puppy, intrigued her. She led him on a merry chase and before he knew quite what hit him, they were together in every sense of the word. She was his first, but he was not hers. When she found out she was pregnant she made an ugly scene, accusing him of tampering with her birth control pills, trying to trap her, keep her from her dreams, stuck in this backwater town. She also told him he was a lousy lay and that no woman in her right mind would ever want to share his bed a second time.

Her parents refused to sign the papers allowing her as a minor to terminate the pregnancy and then cut off all support. She was forced to move in with Daryl and his mother, who did her best to help them come to terms with what the child's birth would bring. Phil had to be forced to eat, begrudging every ounce away from her ideal dancing weight the baby put on her. Daryl loved her, loved their baby, and did everything he could think of to make her happy, to get her to realize that they had a responsibility to their child to try and make their relationship work. He'd asked her to marry him, but she'd just looked at him like a trapped wounded bird, eyes full of betrayal and sorrow. He thought that once she saw their baby, once she held it, she'd feel differently, be ready to accept everything he was ready to give so they could make a life together and be a family.

After Sophia was born, Philomena refused to see her. Two weeks early, it had been a long difficult labor and Sophia had to be placed in an incubator for a few days until she was strong enough to be released. The day Daryl and Ellie had gone to pick her up, Phil disappeared; her parting shot tossing a rock through the stained glass angel's face, the portrait of her, in the window Daryl had designed and created for the home he promised to make for her and their daughter.

None of them had seen her since.

Once a year on Sophia's birthday Daryl sent pictures of her to Phil's parents asking that they pass them along to their daughter and inviting them to meet their granddaughter. He never received a response, but continued to send them anyway. He made it clear he wanted nothing from them—they were wealthy and probably used to people money grubbing from them—for Soph's sake he hoped someday they'd want to acknowledge the relationship, but he wasn't going to force it on them.

Of course he knew where Philomena was. She'd changed her name and even her hair color, but she hadn't changed her face—it was the same one he saw every day when he looked at their daughter. A quick internet search of the corps de ballet and rosters of dance companies could always turn her up. She hadn't made it as a prima ballerina or featured player, but she always worked, always danced with good major companies, sometimes even in Broadway choruses. She made a living doing what she loved, and the only thing she'd had to sacrifice was her child.

For his part Daryl had taken on the responsibility of parenthood with the same dedication and hard work he applied to everything in his life. Sophia was the most important thing he'd ever done and he did whatever it took to give her a great life. The problem was that he was so dedicated to her that he was wound tighter than a Swiss time piece.

For the first three years of her life they lived with his mother and he never went out. If he wasn't at work he was with his baby girl. No stranger to obsessive behavior, his mom grew concerned when he started to have panic attacks when he had to be apart from the child during his overnight shifts at the fire station. Forced to undergo therapy or lose his job Daryl was told he had to have his own life, not just live for his daughter or he was heading for a break down.

Hearing this from Ellie, Merle took it upon himself to loosen up his little bro. When he started the salvage business he asked Daryl for help organizing the crew and arranging their jobs with the underlying goal of getting him out of town and away from home so he could get him laid. Daryl 's social life consisted of taking Soph to play group and swimming lessons, but he seemed blind to the admiring looks that the young and not so young mothers shot his way during the classes.

Merle knew for a fact that Daryl hadn't been with a woman since before Sophia had been born, something that baby bro had drunkenly confessed to him in the wee hours after her third birthday party, sitting out on the deck at their momma's house with a bottle of Jack, looking up at the sparks from the fire pit rising up to the stars.

"Don't know why it matters..." Daryl mumbled in answer to Merle's question, taking another long pull from the bottle his brother had smuggled in; their momma didn't allow liquor in the house, "No damn good at it no how."

"Good enough to make the sprite sleepin' in there." Merle chuckled, blowing out a long stream of smoke from the drag he'd just taken on his Pall Mall.

"That's basic biology—don't take much skill to get the swimmers in the right lane." Daryl scoffed. "Don't mean she liked it."

Merle leaned forward, trying to read Daryl's facial expression—it seemed caught between disgust and longing.

"Just Phil told you she didn't like it? Why you be trusting that ball buster? She as like to tell you up is down and red is green. What'd the others say?"

"What others? Ain't been no others. Nobody'd want a lame ass fumble dick like me." Daryl snorted derisively, his mouth twisted into a sneer. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a long drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he finished and letting his head fall back onto the chair.

Merle frowned at Daryl, not believing what he was hearing. That bitch had screwed with the boy's head something awful. At the age of twenty-two, in his sexual _prime_, baby bro had turned hisself into a Mrs. Doubtfire, wastin' his life away looking after that child.

"Awright son, we'll be takin' a little inventory now—an' you _ever_ breath a word a' this to _anyone _I'll beat your ass into the ground." Merle growled and then motioned at Daryl to hand over the bottle. "Stand up."

"What?" Daryl asked, feeling hazy, the Jack giving him that nice comfy heat in his belly but making his head feel a bit untethered.

"Gimme that bottle an' stand up." Merle ordered again.

Frowning at his brother the whole time, Daryl finally complied, swaying slightly.

"Take off yer shirt." Merle demanded.

"The fuck, Merle?"

"Just do it. _Now."_

Daryl's mouth was set in a stubborn line, but he nonetheless pulled his baggy long sleeved WTFD sweat shirt off over his head, revealing a finely sculpted torso, tight abs, a chest lightly furred with sandy blonde hair, broad shoulders and impressive biceps.

"See, now that there's the shit I'm talking about! That's what makes the ladies cream, Derlina—them muscles you been hiding under there! You show them off with a little patter and some bedroom moves and you're in like Flynn!" Merle said with satisfaction. "You are a _Dixon_ boy—and _all_ Dixon's know their way 'round a pussy."

"Not this one." Daryl murmured, hanging his head, sounding defeated. Women were a mystery to him. He was a romantic at heart—had thought that loving a woman meant he'd automatically know how to please her. That connection he'd felt to Phil, the excitement of the chase should've translated into great sex. It hadn't. At least not for her.

"Bullshit. You just think you gotta be _in love_ to fuck a woman and that just ain't so. It's a skill that can be learned, perfected with study an' practice just like anythin' else you learned in your college classes." Merle held out his hand, grinning wide. "Welcome to the School of Fuck, Derle. Our graduates get rave reviews from the ladies far and wide."

Something about what Merle was saying made a whole lot of sense to Daryl. Why shouldn't he be able to _learn _how to please a woman? He spent time lifting and working out to be better able to do his job, why not use that to his advantage as well? What had all the romantic bullshit he'd tried to pigeon hole his feelings for Phil into gotten him besides a broken heart? Well, besides a kid he loved more than his own life...but she had nothing to do with the path Merle was showing him. The head shrinker said he needed to get out, loosen up and enjoy what his life had to offer.

Daryl took Merle's outstretched hand and after a moment's hesitation, shook it hard.

"Well, Awright then." Merle chuckled.

Between the guys on the salvage business crew and the ones at the station, Merle's little plan to educate Daryl in how to deal with the fairer sex had plenty of tutors. Smooth talking Shane, a fellow EMT was his sensei in the patter that made a woman feel appreciated, comfortable, desired. He told Daryl the best way to talk to a woman was to be honest from the start. They knew when you were blowing smoke so if you wanted to give them a compliment, make it about something you really liked—their full throaty laugh, the way they filled out their jeans, the smart ass remarks they threw back at you. Every woman had something about them to be appreciated and adored. The honesty approach also meant letting them know that this _wasn't_ the start of a beautiful anything—you were both there for the pleasure—limited time offer—no one spends the night, no one gets attached. Lay your cards on the table at the start. Them's the rules, take 'em or leave 'em.

As far as technique? Daryl applied himself to his studies as if he was preparing to take his oral exams for an advanced degree. He read sex manuals, watched films, asked advice, even going so far as to talk to his friends' wives and girlfriends who in turn wanted to fix him up with their friends. Daryl shied away from the possible complications of that though. He knew he wasn't looking for any sort of commitment and the kinds of women those sorts of introductions would bring him had signs above their heads that blinked "looking for a husband" in bright neon.

The gig posing for art classes had turned out to be the perfect way to meet the kind of women looking for the same sort of no strings short term thing his brother's "School rules" championed. He'd been dropping by the stained glass shop at WCTC to visit his teacher there to ask about a new type of soldering technique he'd read about when he saw the flyer advertising for models for a life drawing class at the University. The rest, as they say, was history.

Ellie worried about him, wondering if the whole debacle with Philomena had made it impossible for him to trust a woman in that way again, worrying that he'd never be open to love. He never brought around anyone he was seeing for them to meet and on the few occasions when she'd seen him out and about with someone he'd steered clear of her. She never saw him with the same girl twice, nor did she ever see him with Sophia and a woman.

So finding Carol here this morning had been a bit of a shock to her. She reminded Ellie a bit of Phil—small and fair with light blue eyes, but there was warmth there, especially in how she looked at Sophia, that the girl's birth mother had never shown.

Her question about contacting Philomena hung in the air, Daryl looking at her broodingly, until Merle spoke up.

"That ain't the right question." Merle drawled in his scratchy voice, "The question is, why is he breaking the School rules with this particular little fuck buddy?"

"Don't talk about her like..." Daryl began, with some heat to his warning tone, but then he paused and shook his head, feeling like he was giving too much away, getting ahead of himself. "Just shut up, Merle."

"Knew it'd happen someday." Merle laughed then, long and low, shaking his head at Daryl who frowned at him.

"The hell?" Daryl asked.

"I'm fine here with mom—you head on back to that little gal now. You know you want to." Merle cajoled.

"She's in class." Daryl protested, wondering why Merle was suddenly going against everything he'd been telling him about how to deal with women for the last five years.

"That class last all day? Get your ass outa here" Merle chided, waving his arm dismissively and letting it fall back to the couch back.

Daryl looked over at his mother for some clue as to what to do. He did want to go spend more time with Carol, get to know her better, figure out what he was feeling, but that also scared him.

"Do you like her, Daryl?" Ellie asked, seeing the fear and hope warring on his face.

Daryl thought of Carol's smile, her easy way with Sophia, the way she'd felt in his arms, her honesty...

"Yeah mom." Daryl admitted, "A lot."

"Then what are you still doing here?" Ellie asked him, taking his mug of coffee out of his hands.

Daryl grinned at the both of them, grabbed his keys off the counter and headed out the door.

"Congratulations Derle. You graduated." Merle murmured under his breath, a look of satisfaction smoothing out his features. He'd started this whole "School" thing as a way to get his baby brother over that she-witch who'd fucked him over and made him feel like nothing. It'd worked too well though, closing him off to the possibility of getting hurt again had meant closing himself off to love as well. For whatever reason this new gal, Carol, had tripped his trigger and Merle couldn't be happier.

* * *

><p>"I don't think I can take a whole semester of that man." Tara said out of the side of her mouth as she and Carol left the classroom where they had just suffered through a two and a half hour long class with Dr. Phillip Blake. The man in question was standing at the lectern, still pontificating to a couple of the more sycophantic students in the class, a wire rimmed science type named Milton something and a pretty brunette who seemed to hang on his every word.<p>

"Required course, babe—suffer we must." Carol replied with a sigh, glad she had the rest of the day off so she could head to the library and get started on the additional assignment he'd piled on to her regular already heavy load of reading for the weekend. All because she'd asked a simple question about gender equity to which he hadn't known the answer. She had to research it and present it to class on Monday; a little passive aggressive teaching methodology.

The two friends headed down the hall and out onto the grassy open area of the quad, on their way to meet Glenn and a few other friends for lunch.

"So what is it today? Burrito Buggy?" Carol asked. There were a variety of lunch wagons that set up shop in the parking lot of the quad in the middle of the day with everything from Cuban sandwiches to pizza to tofu burgers.

"Don't look now, but smooth talking sexy formerly naked guy, twelve o'clock." Tara announced.

Daryl stood in front of them, both hands in his front pockets, leaning back against his truck in the on the street across from the quad. As soon as he saw Carol he straightened and smiled, waving and walking towards her with that smooth strut he had, moving like some big cat, totally focused on her.

"Oh holy hell, Care—he looks like _you're_ what's for lunch..." Tara muttered, fascinated by this turn of events. She smiled at the model cheekily, wondering if she should sign up for a drawing class just so she could get a look at the goods Glenn had been rhapsodizing about last night.

"Daryl? Is everything...everyone... okay?" Carol asked with concern, wondering if he'd tracked her down for a specific reason—maybe he needed her to babysit Sophia while they took Merle back to the hospital.

His face softened at the worry in her voice, concern for his family—_how sweet was that?_ –he thought.

"Everything and everyone is fine...I just...I was wondering if you weren't busy...would you...would you like to have lunch?" Daryl asked a bit haltingly, putting his hands back in his pockets.

Carol tilted her head at him, a bit puzzled at the shy tone. There was that other side of him, the one she'd had a glimpse of this morning when he got flustered over her underwear.

"I'm meeting—we're_ supposed_ to meet Glenn and—" Carol tried but was nudged in the shoulder by her friend.

"Oh bugger that!" Tara blithely announced, making Carol roll her eyes a bit. The girl watched way too much BBC America. "Off with you."

"Thanks Tara." Daryl looked over at Carol's friend, smiling at her, holding out his hand to Carol.

"Bonus points for remembering my name, handsome." Tara grinned, pushing Carol towards him.

"Don't I get any say in this?" Carol frowned, looking back and forth between them, not accepting the outstretched hand.

Daryl's brows went together, worried now that maybe this was too much too soon. _Shit, this relationship stuff was harder than he remembered._

"Hey, I'm sorry." Daryl apologized, putting his hands back in his pockets, "I guess I did just barge in and try to hijack your plans. You...you go have lunch with your friends. Maybe... if you're not busy? I could take you to dinner tonight? Or tomorrow?"

Tara looked at her like she'd lost her mind, but Carol had enough of a man thinking she lived to do his bidding, expecting her to drop whatever plans she had just to suit him.

"That would be nice...dinner." Carol finally said, rewarding him with a smile and Daryl smiled in relief.

"Good! Fine! Great. I'll call you." Daryl said, with quiet enthusiasm, starting to turn and back away.

"Daryl?" Carol asked, making him stop and turn back to her.

"Yeah?" he responded with a curious smile.

"Do you like burritos?"

"Sure. I'm pretty easy to feed to be honest." Daryl chuckled, running through his list of Mexican restaurants in his head to take her to tonight if that's what she liked.

Carol held out her hand to him.

"Well, come on then. There's a burrito with your name on it just over there." she cocked her head towards the other side of the quad where the lunch wagons plied their trade. "I'm buying." she added as a final enticement.

Daryl took her hand.

Carol pulled him closer and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.

"You're just full of surprises, Carolanna." Daryl murmured, grinning at how she'd turned the tables on him.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

><p>Well, we're going for the slow burn here. I want this Caryl to build a real relationship, which is something that scares them both because of their past hurts and the fact that there's not just the two of them to consider. Sophia is already a big connection between them.<p>

Cutting right to the physical pleasure has been the way Daryl has related to women for the last several years. He's figured out that he wants more than that with Carol, but that doesn't mean they can just shut down and ignore the sizzling sexual chemistry between them. It's all part of the process they have to work through. How do you balance the desires of the heart, mind and body?

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think of it so far if you have time.


	5. Chapter 5

_Small time jump._

_Daryl has another modeling gig and a misunderstanding makes Carol wonder if she knows what he really wants from her._

* * *

><p>5)<p>

"So let me get this straight—you're upset because for the last three weeks the handsome pleasant sexy man has taken you out to nice restaurants for dinner, on fun outings with his adorable child who adores you, and with him to buy a motorcycle. He calls and texts you daily and has introduced you to the rest of his family, including his _mother_." Andrea said with a bit of disbelief in her husky voice as she regarded Carol.

"That's not the problem, Ange." Glenn said with a know-it-all smile.

"So what is it?" Andrea asked, exasperated.

"He hasn't tried to get in her pants since the first night." Glenn grinned.

"_Glenn!"_ Carol cried, mortified.

But it was true. Since that first night Daryl had been a perfect gentleman. Most evenings ended with a hot kiss at her doorstep that left her aching, but nothing more. It was as if the man she'd met in class, the one who'd had her ready to agree to try_ anything _on his big old leather couch before they'd been interrupted, had been taken over by the other Daryl, the one who blushed at the sight of her cotton undies and sounded worried she'd say no every time he called to ask her out.

"I think I know what the problem is." Andrea said with wise authority.

Carol and Glenn looked at her expectantly.

"He's wooing you._ Courting_ you." The blonde said triumphantly.

The general murmur of conversations around them stopped as the door to the art studio opened and Daryl came in in his blue terry cloth bathrobe, the same kind provided by the University for all of the models. It was his turn again in the once a month rotation, the first time he was back since the night they'd met.

Carol felt her face start to warm and her heart speed up before he even met her eyes, a bit jealous that he was so ready to bare all in front of a room full of people when he was _hers_, knowing it was a ridiculous thought, knowing that this was his job, but feeling it none the less. She waited, but he ignored her in favor of keeping his eyes on the ground, seemingly fascinated by the pattern of the ugly grey and blue tiles.

He didn't look at her once in the whole first set of poses. No flirty smiles or winks, nothing. Carol was confused, trying not to feel hurt, thinking maybe he didn't feel well or he was in a bad mood—anything to push away the thought that he didn't want anyone else to know they were seeing each other for some reason.

At break time she debated whether she should stay at her station and hope he stopped over to talk with her or head out for a snack and a bathroom break as she usually did. Seeing him smiling and talking to Michonne as she showed off her work to him, he decided it for her and she quickly left the studio with Andrea and Glenn.

All of the stalls in the women's room were full so she ducked into the larger handicap accessible/family restroom at the end of the hall to make use of the facilities. After washing her hands she unlocked the door, opening it to a very pissed off looking Daryl in his terry cloth robe.

Before she could say anything he pushed her back into the small room and locked the door behind him.

"You _left_." Daryl said without preamble, crowding her, his bigger body a bit over powering in the small space, especially with the knowledge that all that covered him was the thin robe.

"I had stuff to do…things…" Carol said, frowning at him and crossing her arms in front of her. "You looked busy anyhow."

"_What?"_ he narrowed his eyes at her, edging closer, but she held her ground.

"Your attentions were directed elsewhere." She sniffed.

He still looked at her blankly.

"Michonne? The woman to whom you were paying so much attention you didn't see me leave?" Carol said dryly, leaning her butt up against the sink counter, inching back away from him incrementally as far as she could. A pissed off Dixon was pretty magnificent; intense in his focus.

A slow grin spread across his face.

"You were jealous." He murmured with satisfaction.

"Why should I be jealous over a man who ignores me?" Carol retorted and he saw the hurt in her eyes then.

"Shit." Daryl muttered, realizing she hadn't understood why he'd not looked at her when he was posing. Holding her gaze he stepped closer, put his arms around her and pulled her close so that their bodies were pressed flush tight against one another.

"_That's_ why I couldn't look at you while I was working. _That's_ what you do to me." Daryl growled, staring at her intently.

Carol made a sound halfway between a moan and a gasp of surprise when she felt his erection press against her belly, his hands cupping her ass as he lifted her up onto the counter, fitting her legs around his narrow hips, leaning his body into hers to capture her lips with his.

_This _was the passion she'd been expecting, that she'd been missing for the last three weeks and Carol dug her fingers into his muscled biceps, anchoring herself to him as he used his talented tongue to delicately explore her mouth, slowly, erotically grinding his hips into hers.

"_Break's over! C'mon Care!"_ Glenn's loud voice and the sound of someone pounding on the bathroom door forced a groan from Daryl as he abruptly pulled away from Carol and staggered back a few steps.

"Fuck." Daryl swore, breathing hard, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, obviously fighting for control.

Carol jumped down off of the counter and went to him, placing one hand on his waist as the other moved lower to touch him, but he stopped her, grasping her wrists.

"You can't go back in there…like that…" Carol told him in the calmest voice she could muster.

"I'll be fine—you go back. I'll be in …in a little bit…" Daryl said, brushing a kiss to her forehead.

Carol looked concerned, but he nodded again reassuringly and released her.

"Go on—I'll see you after class—okay?" Daryl promised, giving her a slight corner of the mouth smile as he reached back and unlocked the door behind him.

"Are you sure?' Carol asked, frowning at him and stealing a quick glance down at his robe still tented below the belt.

"Longer you stay, longer it'll take me to get this under control, sweetheart." Daryl said ruefully, opening the door for her, pulling it inward so he could hide behind it as she left, hopefully no one the wiser that she hadn't been alone inside the small space.

Eyes wide, still looking concerned for him, Carol none less acceded to his wishes and left the room, returning to her station in the studio.

"Everything okay?" Andrea asked, looking closely at her friend as Carol busied herself sharpening her pencils.

"I'm fine. Ran downstairs to the vending machines to get some…things…" Carol said as evenly as she could, hoping the slight tremor in her voice could be attributed to her rushing to get back to class.

"Did you see your boyfriend down there? Professor O has been looking for him." Andrea continued suspiciously, noting Carol's flushed face.

Carol looked up as if just noticing that Daryl hadn't returned.

"He wasn't at the vendies." Carol shrugged noncommittally.

Prof. Ogden swept over to stand in front of Glenn, gesturing imperiously.

"Mr. Rhee, would you be so kind as to go check the men's room and see if that's where our model is hiding himself and ask him to please grace us with his presence?"

"Sure professor." Glenn agreed, flashing Carol a questioning look as he got up.

Ogden stalked away muttering something about unprofessional behavior under her breath and Carol felt a little sick to her stomach knowing it _was _at least partially her fault that he was late. But then she smiled a little secret smile because it was _her_ _fault_ he was late.

* * *

><p>After class Glenn waited with Carol outside the building on the big front steps.<p>

When Daryl had made it back to the studio, his shaggy bangs were damp as if he'd plunged his face onto a sink of icy water. Carol wondered what else he'd had to plunge…

During the rest of class he'd only caught her eye once, when it was the final free pose; when he could choose his _own_ pose rather than take direction from the Professor. Daryl very deliberately lay down on the carpeted dais platform and shifted onto his belly, shoulders slightly to the side so he could rest his head on his left bicep, a relaxed pose that let him rest and hold position for a long time, his left thigh blocking the full frontal view, and then he stared directly at her, a hint of a sultry smile on his lips.

Carol thought it was the best drawing she'd ever done.

Professor Ogden agreed, taking it and hanging it in one of the big glass wall display cases outside the studio along with several others from the session. Though he'd roused her ire for being late to return from break, his work in the second half of the class had mollified her, staying past the allotted class time to make up for it, allowing everyone more time to perfect their drawings.

"Thanks for hanging out—he'll just be a minute…changing…" Carol mumbled, kicking at her backpack a little with her toes sticking out of her sandals. She and Sophia had painted both of theirs a light pink, the girl's favorite color, last time she had been over at Daryl's for the day.

They'd watched him working on the glass in his studio, and Carol had even asked to try her hand at using the cutting tools, handling the small sharp sided pieces carefully, mindful of his constant reminders that each one had a razor edge, ready to slice through unwary skin and flesh down to the bone. She was careful, calm and hadn't cut herself once. She had a good eye as well, cutting and matching the pieces to the frame, patiently fitting them into the lead H cames, working efficiently and quickly. Daryl had been impressed and said he'd hire her as an apprentice, leaving the less detailed work to her on a large church commission he'd just signed.

It had pleased Carol to know he trusted her with the work and with his daughter. He was taking his time letting her into his life and she'd been slowly doing the same. She wished she had her own apartment to invite him to return the favor of the time she spent with him, Sophia and his mother and brother in his home.

Merle had taken up semi-permanent residency there after deciding to end his chemo, Daryl making him his own space by clearing out one of the small storage rooms near the first floor bathroom. Merle talked about when he could move back to his own apartment, but all of them knew that wasn't ever going to happen. A couple of times when both Daryl and Ellie had night shifts at work, Carol had stayed there with Sophia as an overnight sitter, in reality there just as much for Merle. She was becoming part of the family; Merle's favorite nick name for her now was "Sis" instead of mouse.

That Daryl seemed contented with keeping their relationship mostly platonic had frustrated her, but Carol was a patient person. A few comments that Ellie and Merle had made about Sophia's mother led Carol to believe that whatever had happened between them had soured Daryl on relationships; his Casanova personae making more sense as a defensive mechanism.

After her initial freeze out Ellie had started to thaw a bit when she saw how happy being around Carol made both her son and granddaughter. The morning she'd come home from work and found Carol asleep in Merle's room in a chair next to his bed, holding his hand, the sour smell of vomit and blood still lingering, the unhealthy flush and pallor on his face attesting to the fact that her elder son been ill throughout the night, Ellie finally fully understood what Daryl saw in the small woman. Carol was good people.

"He's really into you—you know that, right?" Glenn asked Carol as they sat and waited for Daryl after class. He was a bit worried with how pensive Carol was acting.

"How long after you met Tara did you guys start sleeping together?" Carol wondered aloud.

"Uh… well… I mean I was with Eric and she was dating…um… a couple of other people when we met." Glenn said, making a little embarrassed face. He knew that Carol was still trying to get used to the more open sexuality of her younger friends. Glenn and Tara thought of themselves as pan-sexual rather than bisexual—who you loved didn't depend on things like gender identification.

"_Sooo?"_ Carol pushed.

"So we were friends for a while before we fell in love and ended our other things and starting doing the nasty all exclusive like with each other." Glenn said, teasing her, getting in her face and popping a kiss on her cheek.

"But you're still attracted to men?" Carol asked, curious.

"I haven't gone blind, sweetie—and _yas,_ Daryl is smokin' hot, and so are you for that matter—but I'm with Tara now. _I love her_." Glenn said in a casual lighthearted tone until the last three words, which he said with great sincerity and reverence.

Carol smiled a tight closed mouth smile and nodded, lowering her head, happy for her friends, feeling a little tearful at the love so apparent in his voice. Glenn pulled her close and hugged her, kissing the top of her head.

"_Do you love Daryl?"_ Glenn asked quietly, still holding her close.

"It's too soon." Carol protested.

"That's your head talking…."Glenn chuckled. _"Listen to your heart."_

"Are you quoting 80's music to me?" Carol grinned back, pushing him away with mock disdain.

"Hey, Roxette was awesome, man!" Glenn shot back, earning a giggle from Carol who swatted at his shoulder.

"My momma always told me to watch out for the man who can amuse the women." Daryl drawled as he came through the door, giving Glenn a menacing half serious raised eyebrow look. He looked formidable in his biker boots, dark jeans, white t-shirt and dark gray corduroy jacket with black leather sleeves.

"Just keeping your girlfriend company." Glenn shrugged, ignoring Carol's little wince—Daryl hadn't been calling her that yet, introducing her to people as his good _friend_, Carol.

"You ready to go, sweetheart?" Daryl asked Carol, using the same endearment he'd said to her in the restroom earlier, his voice gentler this time.

Carol and Glenn stood and Daryl draped his arm around Carol's shoulders, casually possessive, and then bent and grabbed up her back pack as well, carrying it for her like a schoolboy carrying his girl's books, making Glenn hide a knowing grin.

"Have a nice night you two." Glenn said impishly, bopping down the steps and walking backwards quickly away from them, giving them a little wave before turning and practically skipping off, his hands in his back pockets.

Carol waited for a sarcastic quip about Glenn to issue from Daryl's lips, but none was forthcoming. Instead he seemed intent on hurrying her to his new motorcycle, something for which he'd been saving a couple of years' worth of modeling fees. It was a custom Yamaha XV920R outfitted with tires in a scrambler/flat tracker style good for both the paved and dirt back roads around Senoia. Both Daryl and Merle had been riding since they were kids and this bike was Daryl's pride and joy. Merle had a big old Triumph with ape-hangers handlebars, but Daryl preferred the smaller motorcycle and had paid for it to be fixed up to his specifications.

When they reached the bike he set her backpack down, but when she reached for it he stopped her.

"_My_ bike's over there." Carol said, pointing to the bike rack where her bicycle was locked up.

"Yeah, well, _my_ bike's here—I want ya to ride with me—I'll bring you back to get yours—it'll be okay there." Daryl requested. He'd given her a short ride the day they'd gone to pick up the bike, but she felt like she'd mainly been there to drive his truck home for him. He'd been like a little kid at Christmas, zooming off in front of her all the way back to Senoia from Atlanta.

"I'm not exactly dressed for it." Carol looked a bit nervous, pointing at her open sandals, knee length shorts and short sleeved blouse.

"Shit." Daryl sighed, realizing she was right. He could've planned this better. Daryl ducked his head, a bit embarrassed.

"Why don't I take my bike home and you meet me there? Then I can change and we can go from there." Carol offered and picked up her back pack. Sighing, Daryl nodded and she smiled at him.

About a half an hour later, when Daryl had suffered through a short interrogation from Mrs. McCloud while he waited downstairs for Carol, she finally appeared to rescue him.

"I don't have a leather jacket." Carol said dubiously, momentarily regretting the expensive one she'd left behind in her closet when she'd left Ed. "Will this be okay?" she held out a faded denim one.

"Leathers?" Mrs. McCloud perked up as she asked Carol what she needed.

"Daryl is taking me for a ride on his new motorcycle Mrs. M." Carol explained.

"You have a _hog,_ young man?" Mrs. M asked tartly, looking Daryl over more closely.

"Yamaha actually, ma'am." Daryl said in a low deferential voice.

"Mr. McCloud had a _1954 Harley__-__Davidson_ FL Hydra-Glide. I fell in love with him because of that bike." The old woman said in a reverential voice. "You hold on now dear," she added and bustled off into the back bedroom. They could hear Pasha, the miniature hell hound yapping her head off from where she'd been closed up to keep her from annoying Daryl.

Carol and Daryl exchanged a surprised look. Mr. McCloud was in a nursing home, suffering from advanced Alzheimer's and his wife rarely spoke of him, finding it too painful.

"Here you go." Mrs. M said, coming back into the front room with a leather bundle in her hands. "One for each of you." To Carol she handed a jacket, but to Daryl she handed a vest.

Carol held the small jacket up and saw that it had been lovingly maintained, the old dark leather still supple, and when she turned it over she saw that a pair of cloth wings had been sewn onto the back. The man's vest that Daryl was examining had the same unusual pattern of feathers on the back, sewn right in to the leather.

"Mrs. McCloud—these are special—we can't –" Carol said, but Mrs. M would have none of it.

"Pish posh, I'm glad to see someone get some use out of them—go ahead, try them on—I was a petite thing like you back in the day, Carol dear, and my Charlie was as flush with muscles as your young man here."

"It would mean something …something to me to know you like them." Mrs. McCloud sniffed at them when they still hesitated.

Carol could see that Mrs. M was almost in tears so she quickly pulled on the jacket which was a bit large on her, but not so much that she couldn't wear it. She looked to Daryl and gave him a little smile and he followed suit, pulling the vest on over his coat. It fit perfectly.

"There." Mrs. M said with satisfaction. "It was meant to be."

Carol spontaneously gave her land lady a hug and when she released her Daryl took Mrs. McCloud's hands in both of his and thanked her, kissing her lined cheek.

"So where are we going?" Carol asked as Daryl handed her his spare helmet.

"Need to stop at Merle's and grab a few things he's been asking for—that sound okay?" Daryl replied.

"Sure. Whatever he needs." Carol smiled. She couldn't quite believe how fond she'd grown of Daryl's irascible big brother. She'd tried to hold herself in, guard her emotions from the inevitable, but it just wasn't possible. Even dying, Merle was too full of life to be denied.

Daryl climbed on the powerful machine holding it steady for her. She swung her leg over the seat behind him, doing a little hop skip up, hanging on to the wings on the back of his vest.

"Don't let go." Daryl told her, pulling her arms all the way around his torso and then starting the bike with a roar.

"_I won't."_ Carol said, sure he couldn't hear her above the noise of the engine, but saying it anyway.

* * *

><p>Merle's place was in one of the two relatively modern four story brick apartment complex buildings in downtown Senoia—not at all what Carol had expected. He lived on the top floor and for some reason Daryl decided to bet her that he could beat her in a race up the stairs. When she beat <em>him<em> to the apartment door, laughing and turning in circles cheering herself in triumph, he whined about her being too skinny, that he had the added burden of muscle mass to haul up each flight. Carol plucked the door keys from his hand and opened the door, telling him she'd won fair and square.

"What do I win, anyhow?" She asked as she pushed open the door. Daryl followed her in and closed the door behind them, leaning back against it.

"Me? Alone for a few hours?" Daryl replied, sounding as if he wasn't sure that was enough of a prize.

"A few hours?" Carol asked, tilting her head at him and coming closer.

"Mom's with Merle and Sophia at my place tonight..." Daryl explained, "So we can...we can maybe stay here?"

"All night?" Carol said, a trace of a smile touching her lips as her tongue swept out to wet them before she nervously bit the lower one, her eyes locked on his, stepping yet closer to him.

"If you want." Daryl said, nodding, looking just as nervous.

"If I just want a slumber party? a sleep over?" Carol asked, her cool blue eyes looking like they took up half of her face.

"Whatever you want." Daryl agreed. "I won't lie—I want you, want you so much I ache with it...you felt how much I want you...but I want it to be what we_ both_ want to happen—for the right reasons. I care about you...you mean something to me, Carol. I haven't felt this way about anybody in a long time."

Carol came into his arms then, putting her arms around him and laying the side of her head on his chest.

"Then I think you need to tell me about Sophia's mother and I need to tell you about my ex-husband." she said quietly and felt as well as heard the big sigh he gave in reply.

* * *

><p><em>Can Daryl open up enough to reassure Carol how he feels about her? Can Daryl trust her after what Phil put him through? More to come!<em>

_Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think if you have time._


	6. Chapter 6

_Carol and Daryl's night continues with a serious talk and then a bit of fun._

_Sweet smut warning. (I know you've been patiently & not so patiently waiting for it, LOL!)_

* * *

><p><p>

6)

Carol and Daryl sat on the sofa in Merle's apartment living room looking at each other expectantly. They had taken off their coats and shoes and he had grabbed them a couple of beers out of the fridge, but other than the initial first sip Carol hadn't touched hers, while Daryl had swallowed at least half the bottle in the first draught, betraying his nervousness.

When he looked at Carol he saw possibilities, maybe feelings like he had years ago, before Phil, back when he wanted to believe he could just find someone special and be happy, something that had eluded his parents. He'd promised himself it'd be different, that_ he'd_ be different than them. He wouldn't screw around on his wife or drown his sorrows in booze…

Daryl put his beer on the coffee table and sighed, leaning against the back of the couch and looking up at the ceiling, wondering if _anyone_ ever got it right.

"Do you know any happy people?" Daryl asked abstractly and he felt Carol's small cool hand take his.

"I do—I think they are anyhow—Glenn and Tara—from what I know of them…they seem very happy." Carol replied. "And Sophia. She's happy, Daryl." She assured him, squeezing his hand.

"Happy as a kid can be without a mother." Daryl said bitterly and then sighed again; realizing Carol too was without one and made an apologetic little grunt, pulling her in to nestle at his side.

"My mom didn't have a choice—she didn't want to leave me." Carol said, resting her head on his shoulder and putting her arms around his torso comfortingly, giving him a place to explain what had happened with Sophia's mother.

"We were too young." Daryl began after taking a deep breath, as if he was going to tell the whole story in one long exhalation, purge himself of it, of her, the girl he'd loved so whole heartedly and who had broken his heart.

"You were what, nineteen?"

"And she was seventeen…eighteen when she had Soph."

"Oh Daryl…" Carol said. That was the same age she had been when she met Ed. She'd been barely nineteen when they'd married. The counselor she'd seen at the shelter had told her that the years between nineteen and twenty-five were the time of the most change in our lives…

"Goes without saying she wasn't planned, but from the second Phil told me, I loved that child…loved her as much as her momma hated her." Daryl said in an anguished murmur.

"She didn't!" Carol said in soft adamancy.

"Philomena had plans for her life. A child wasn't in them. She tried to…she wanted to end it, but her parents wouldn't let her. She would've, but she was underage. Didn't matter that I loved her, that I _wanted_ her." Daryl's sadness and agitation had him vibrating, trembling in Carol's arms.

Carol tried to find sympathy for Philomena, so young, believing everything she thought she'd have was being taken from her, but the thought of her throwing away having someone like Daryl to love her, a child of her own, things she had wanted for so long, made it hard to not be jealous instead.

"I wasn't enough… I was never good enough for her." Daryl said, "She's a dancer; wanted New York, big career on stage." Daryl's voice trailed off making Carol lift her head to look at him, the bleakness on his face causing her to raise her hand to his cheek. "Never even held her. Not once did she pick up her own child. She just left and never came back."

"She made Sophia go away…in her head…she couldn't handle the truth of what had happened so she made it not real." Carol said, her hand dropping away, her voice getting sort of distant, reedy.

"Carol?" Daryl blinked and looked down at her, seeing the pain in her eyes. And then he understood, asking gently, "What did _you_ make not real?"

"Ed. His name was Ed—my ex-husband. I was the same age as Phil—just out of high school—he was like a hero in a girl's fantasy of romance, older, rich, and sophisticated. I married him. I quit University. When I talked about wanting to go back he broke my arm…an accident…bought me a _Porsche_ to apologize… bought me lots and lots of _things_…every time…for all the _accidents_….to apologize. Ten years of apologies to make it not real."

Daryl leaned in and placed a soft kiss to her brow, reining in his fury at the man who had hurt her, broken her body and for a while it seemed, her spirit.

"And then he killed me. I was dead." She said this in a steady monotone, deliberately keeping her gaze from Daryl's face so she could finish what she needed to say, " The paramedics told me in the ambulance on the way to the hospital…," her voice broke and she laughed a little unsteadily, "Told me _welcome back_."

Carol could still feel Ed's hands around her throat in unguarded moments, choking off her air, the lights sparking in her peripheral vision as everything started to go dark. It had been the two man work crew for the service cleaning the house gutters, the ones Ed had accused her of looking at "lustfully," come through the patio doors to pick up their check for the day's work who'd found them, pulled Ed off of her, called the ambulance and had done CPR until it arrived.

"My god...oh my god, _Carol_…" Daryl said, his voice cracking, pulling her up and into his lap, rocking her as if she were the most miraculous thing he'd ever seen.

"I went into a shelter after that, filed charges, the whole nine yards. It took two years, but then I was finally free. Moved to Woodbury to start my new life. My second chance." Carol told him, her voice growing stronger as she looked up into his eyes.

Daryl already cared for her, respected her, but now he better understood what she had overcome, how she'd faced her fears and bravely went on even after someone had tried to so utterly destroy her, body and soul.

"I think we both deserve a second chance, Carol." Daryl said, agreeing whole heartedly. "And I want to do it right—be up front about everything from the start….I've been…I've been with a lot of women since what happened with Philomena. Prob'ly trying to prove to myself …to _her _that I _was_ something, that other women wanted me even if she didn't; that I could please them between the sheets. It's shitty and shallow and the only thing I can say in my defense is that I was safe and I was honest with them… that I wasn't looking for anything more…"

Daryl felt her stiffen against his hold on her.

"I know that's how we met—me being that guy—and I don't blame you for not trusting me." Daryl murmured and sighed.

"No—that's not it. I don't have any right to question what you did; who you were with before we met... It's just that…it's that _I've _only ever been with one man….and it was… I mean it wasn't… I never…"

"You never…?"

"I never liked it. I _suffered_ it. It was my duty." Carol didn't elaborate, but the shudder than ran through her told Daryl everything she couldn't say.

"Then why…why did you want to come home with me?" Daryl asked her, remembering her insistence to him that first night, how she challenged him when he'd given her an out; thought to just take her back to her place and leave her there instead.

"Because I knew _you'd_ be different. You were so gentle…right from the start…and the way you looked at me was so _hot_…I wanted that_. I wanted_ _you to want me…"_

"I _do_…shit Carol, you hafta know I _do_…but I've been trying so hard to go slow…not push you into more than you're ready for…" Daryl told her, his frustration apparent.

"I need you Daryl…." Carol whispered, her eyes focused intently on his.

"_Oh angel…"_ Daryl murmured softly, looking into her beautiful blue eyes. The idea of what her ex-husband had done to her, almost snuffing out the warmth of the woman he held in his arms was physically painful to him. He didn't want to care this much… opening his heart to her meant that he could lose her. He'd barely survived losing the first woman he'd ever loved. If he truly let Carol in, he was risking so much more.

He knew he could make her feel good; bring her pleasure in the physical act without risking his heart, like he'd done with so many other women.

_And this tenderness he felt towards her that threatened to overwhelm him?_ His heart asked. _Well, maybe he could try letting himself feel that as well._

Daryl shifted her in his embrace so he could lift his fingers to the soft curls at her brow, pushing them back off her forehead so he could warm it with his kiss. He continued to slowly and carefully press little kisses all over her face, the softness of her skin against his lips like the finest silk.

Carol raised her arms to his neck, drawing his mouth to hers, his lush licking caress against her lower lip making her sigh, opening to him and he pressed the advantage, pushing in to let his tongue find hers. These were the deep devouring erotic kisses that Carol craved from him, the ones he'd already shown her, like a card sharp flashing his Aces, promising her a royal flush if she played his game.

"I want to see you." Daryl breathed against her cheek, lightly panting, his fingers skimming under the front of her blouse, finding skin.

"Does Merle have a bedroom?" Carol asked in a husky voice and Daryl's head came up with a start, as if she'd just thrown a bucket of ice on him by saying his brother's name.

"I was hoping we could make it off the couch tonight." Carol asked lightly, but then frowned at his perplexed expression.

Finally Daryl laughed a bit sheepishly. Of course she would. But this was the first time he had "borrowed" Merle's place when he couldn't take a woman home or to her place. He hadn't thought beyond the couch.

"As you wish." Daryl said gallantly and stood up, carrying her in his arms.

"I love a good _Princess Bride_ quote," Carol smiled, but then blushed, suddenly remembering that Sophia had likened her to a princess and Daryl was carrying her across a threshold.

When they reached the bed he set her down on it and sat down next to her, keeping his eyes trained on hers. He leaned close and his nimble fingers found and undid the first several buttons of her blouse tracing the line of her cleavage beneath the lacy edge of her bra with his fingertips before he lowered his mouth to the inner curve of one small full breast with a satisfied murmur.

"There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world…" Daryl quoted with a roguish smile, making Carol gape at him until she recalled the moment in the movie when Westley had said it to Buttercup, stopping her from plunging a dagger into her chest when she'd been forced to marry the evil prince.

He continued to unbutton, kissing his way down and then pulled her blouse the rest of the way off. He started to put his mouth to her right breast, almost exactly at the point where they'd gotten last time before they'd been interrupted. In recognition of that fact he looked up at her and was happy to see she had a tiny smile, her eyes crinkling in amusement as they both paused to look around and then listen for any other voices. When none were forth coming he sat up straighter and put his hands on her waist, his expression becoming more serious.

"Trust me?" Daryl asked and Carol nodded yes, "I want to make you feel good, sweetheart—so you tell me, when it does—n' if it doesn't, well, I need you to tell me that too..."

"Don't...don't hold me down? I feel...trapped...it closes in..." Carol told him, her eyes wide and solemn. That was one thing she knew; she was extremely claustrophobic. Ed had delighted in taking her from behind, pushing her face down into the pillows until she couldn't breathe, struggling against him, screaming until she lost her voice.

"Shit—did I scare you? In the restroom tonight?" Daryl asked mournfully, remembering how he'd crowded her back against the sink counter. He hoped he never had occasion to meet the asshole she'd been married to. He didn't fancy a prison sentence.

"A little—at first, but we were face to face—you kissed me—I like it when you kiss me...your beard against my skin..." she said so sweetly that he had to do it again, wrapping his arms around her but holding her gently, like a delicate spun glass figurine. Gradually the kisses grew more passionate and the little noises Carol made in response to his tentative caresses on her back and shoulders emboldened him enough to find the clasp of her bra and unhook it in a practiced move. He absorbed her shiver as she felt the garment loosen and then she pulled away from him. Daryl immediately released her and watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she held the lacy covering to her with her left hand.

"I want to see you." he repeated, and she focused on his kiss swollen lips as he spoke.

Carol used her right hand to slide the straps off her shoulders, still holding the lace to her and then reached out; caressing his scruff covered cheek, running her thumb over his lips and then let the covering fall. Her small perfect breasts had a slight up tilt crowned with pale pink nipples, hardening as Daryl watched, his mouth watering.

"_You're so beautiful."_ Daryl whispered, "_God, Carol..."_

Carol looped her hand around his neck and pulled him in, kissing him roughly, excited, nipping at his lower lip and then sucking on it, making him groan. His hands moved quickly to cup her breasts, thumbing and then lightly pinching the stiff nipples as he repeatedly plunged his tongue deep into her mouth. He felt her arch into his hands, rubbing against them like a cat, wanting more, breaking the kiss, moaning his name.

Daryl lowered his head to her right breast, worshiping it with lips and tongue while continuing to play with his fingers over her left and she bucked against him, crying out, her fingers catching in his hair. He pushed back, lowering her to the bed and lying down beside her, taking his time leisurely worshiping her flesh until she was trembling at the edge of something building inside her, some intense pleasure lapping at her consciousness and control in ever growing waves.

"This okay?" Daryl asked, raising his head to look at her as he lightly ran his right hand down between her breasts and over her bare abdomen, back and forth at the top hem of her pants, skimming his fingers underneath the cloth band as he spoke, touching her panties.

"You've already seen them," Carol said, her humor swimming up through the haze of desire she was currently submerged under.

Daryl smiled indulgently and with that same easy ability flicked open the snap, found and lowered the zipper pull of her pants, revealing her undies.

She raised her hips so he could remove her pants, but to her surprise he didn't just pull the panties off with them. They weren't the same exact pair as the ones he'd put in the dryer for her, these were pink with tiny rose buds, but they were the same style, bikini cotton, and Daryl knew he'd keep them, steal 'em or ask her for them, _after_…

He tossed her pants towards the bedside chair and then pulled off his t-shirt and jeans, adding them to the pile, so they were both clad only in scraps of cotton. He wore Calvin Klein briefs, black, and Carol wondered if he'd bought them for himself or they'd been some Christmas or birthday gift from his mother.

While he undressed, she raised herself up on her elbows to look at him, taking in all of that male beauty she'd studied so intently in class. He had powerful looking shoulders and arms—she knew from being in his home that he had a weight room and worked out regularly, knew that the kind of work he did demanded that he be fit and lean—his long muscular legs said stamina and power, the strong depth of chest said heart, the curve of the biceps said strength—but there was more to his appeal than that. It was also the way he _moved,_ so deliberate and graceful…

Daryl returned to the bed, kneeling beside her and lowered his face to her belly, kissing her softly right below her belly button. Carol giggled a little—his beard and mustache tickled there as well.

"That freckle was taunting me." Daryl quipped, framing her hips with his hands, holding her in place as his mouth moved lower, tugging at the elastic band of her briefs with his teeth until they snapped back, this time making her actually laugh.

"You're _playing_." Carol accused, pushing at his head, a bit mystified.

"Sex _should_ be fun, sweetheart," Daryl grinned up at her. She'd been holding her body so stiffly when he'd returned to the bed after doffing his clothes that he knew he needed to relax her. As much as he knew she wanted him, she was also obviously still quite nervous. From what she had told him he thought she'd probably had few if any good sexual experiences. For someone so lovely, so sweet and kind that was a damn shame—she should be petted and pampered until she was limp with pleasure.

"_Fun..."_ Carol said the word as though she was testing its taste in her mouth, the sweet and sour of it, the possibilities.

"I wanna show you _my _idea of fun... please?" Daryl cajoled, waiting for her response, hooking his thumbs under the sides of her bikinis.

"What...what are you going to do?" Carol said, her breath coming a bit faster.

"Just what you think I'm going to do." Daryl breathed, lowering his head to place his open mouth at the apex of her thighs, his breath heating her center through the cotton.

Carol whimpered and tensed again.

"What is it...tell me?" Daryl urged, resting his chin on her abdomen and looking up at her.

"Is it...is that fun for _you_?" Carol asked, skeptical. She knew it was supposed to be amazing for the woman—the way Tara went on about it had made her afraid to look Glenn in the eye for a couple of days afterwards and Andrea had said that, done well, it put a vibrator to shame—but this was the first chance she'd had to test that claim.

She felt his rumbling laugh against her belly and swatted at his head again.

"_Daryl!"_

"Honey, I wouldn't be doin' it if it wasn't." Daryl chuckled, placing a light kiss on her rose bud covered mound, "But only if _you_ want it..." and then he patiently waited, watching her face as she debated it with herself.

Carol closed her eyes, willing herself to let go of her previous fears and feelings of inadequacy. She took a deep breath and let it out, opening her eyes to his intense stare, pupils wide with desire. Not trusting her voice she dipped her chin in assent and he slid her panties down off of her hips, following their path down her hip bones with his tongue.

She was so slender, so slight that he'd been pleasantly surprised at the rounded swell of her breasts and curve of her ass, which filled his hands as he pushed them under her to finish undressing her. Then Daryl stopped, unable to stop himself from pausing to look at her, finally fully revealed to his gaze, her pale skin almost glowing, milky white with that sprinkle of freckles dusted at intervals all over her. No spray on or tanning bed tan, no overabundance created by silicone for his Carol; a neat bikini wax and smooth under arms and legs were her only concessions to modern American beauty standards. Her body was the stuff of art, a Pre-Raphaelite water nymph, sleek but rounded, rosy nipples prominent on the perfect handful of breast, the gentle curve of her abdomen resolving into the russet triangle of curls at her center...

Daryl had deliberately kept his Calvin's on to slow himself down; remind him that it was all about her pleasure this first time. Always a considerate lover, he made sure his partner never regretted being in his bed, working for their satisfaction as much as his own. Everyone brought their own preferences and hang ups into the bedroom, some of them only apparent after the fact, in the middle of things. He was glad that Carol had felt comfortable enough to tell him some of hers. Knowing that she'd never had anyone go down on her excited him, made him hard to the point of pain for the second time today. When she'd almost touched him in the restroom earlier tonight—to do what? Offer a helping hand to relieve his_…? Shit, the woman really was trying to kill him…_

Daryl looked up at her as he gently stroked and kissed down her hips and thighs. Her face showed her tension, mouth slightly open, eyes tightly shut, worry wrinkles creasing her forehead. Christ, she looked like she was readying herself for some painful medical procedure…

"Just relax, baby, okay?" Daryl soothed, moving back to her breasts, laving and suckling at them, hoping that invisible connection between nipple and clit would help refocus her, sliding his right hand down to pet at the silken curls, easing a finger inside at the same time, sighing in relief, his cock and her hips involuntarily jumping as he found her slick heat.

"_Oh fuck Carol, you're so wet…"_ he breathed against her breast, his voice low and husky,_ "Do you know how that makes me feel? You want this? You want me? Tell me what you want…"_

"_You...I want you to...to kiss me... everywhere..."_ Carol whispered, a shy demand to which Daryl was happy to comply, and she slowly relaxed her legs, allowing him to slide apart her thighs, pushing deeper with his fingers, easy caresses, drawing out her silken moisture as he kissed his way down her body.

When she felt his fingertips graze her clit Carol made a little abstract noise, not quite a cry, almost the word _yes_ on a sigh of satisfaction, something she'd been waiting for for far too long finally _there_ and _real. _He spread her, opened her core to him and there was the first touch of his tongue, that erotic kiss tenderly applied, like nothing she'd ever felt. She clenched the bed spread with her fingers, growing dizzy even though she was flat on her back, having difficulty just keeping the breath flowing in and out of her lungs while everything in her focused on what he was doing for her.

Daryl felt that shift in her, heard the catch in her breath, the further loosening of her legs as her knees fell to the sides and moved in more fully between then, carefully draping her thighs over his biceps, starting his kisses at the creamy insides of her knees and moving up this time, holding her open, enjoying the taste of her, her desire for him sweet on his tongue and lips.

When he held the tip of his talented tongue against her and began rapidly flicking it back and forth she sucked in a breath and moaned his name; when he alternated that with using it to explore her, thrusting it up and into the tightness he found there, her hands left the bed and went to his head, holding him to her, "_Please!"_ and "_Don't stop_!" torn from her lips...

He knew that moment, right before she comes, when a woman is right on the edge—the longer you can keep here there, almost but not quite slipping into bliss, backing off just enough to hold her there without losing it—D aryl knew how that felt, knew how much more exquisite that made the orgasm when it finally came. He held Carol there, right at that point of balance, tremors wracking her body, fingers in his hair, her head tossing back and forth on the bed.

"_Daryl—I can't—it's too much...it's too...much...let me...I need to..."_ Carol pleaded with him.

Daryl sucked down on her clit, working it mercilessly with his tongue, giving a satisfied hum against her when he felt the clench and spasm of her release, the rhythmic pulse of her sex as her back arched. She screamed so long and loud he was a bit worried the neighbors might call the sheriffto break the door down. Three more times he pulled that response from her until she literally sat up and wearily pushed him off of her and he moved up to cuddle in next to her, kissing her brow.

"Damn, Carolanna, you're a _screamer_..." Daryl teased and she blushed, shy again, which felt ridiculous to her considering the intimacy they'd just shared, but she hadn't really known that about herself. She'd always been so reined in, her whole life, _be quiet Carol Anne, your mother is sleeping_... AS far as sex was concerned any orgasms she gave herself were always silent and hidden. And if she cried out at all with Ed it was from pain not pleasure.

"Because you're very good at that." Carol settled for telling him, "Thank you, it was... wonderful..." she added, looking into his eyes, trying to keep the adoration from her gaze, hoping he'd just think it was the leftover haze from the bliss he'd just given her.

Daryl smiled and kissed her, tracing patterns over her back as he held her close. This time she deepened the kiss and feeling emboldened, Carol found the waist of his briefs and unexpectedly pushed her hands underneath, catching Daryl off guard. He grunted and quickly stilled her hands.

"Shit—sweetheart, wait—" Daryl said, "Can't do that—I'm barely holdin' on here n' I wanna be inside you when I come—okay?"

"Now?" Carol asked, her eyes wide and expectant, making him chuckle.

"Now is good," Daryl smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, loving her anticipation.

Carol wriggled her wrists so he'd release her hands and then she started to strip him of his underwear, but he stood to finish and take the two or three steps to Merle's night stand to grab a condom out of the big fishbowl full of them on the lower shelf. Later, when he had more control maybe he'd ask her to put it on him, he thought she'd like that, but this time he really was done with any more preliminaries. He'd almost come against the bed when she'd let out that banshee wail, so turned on to hear her really let go and enjoy her pleasure.

As she watched him rip open the foil packet, then stroke the moisture from the tip back on to the head and shaft to add a bit of lubrication before pulling on the condom, Carol got a tiny bit apprehensive, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her. As Andrea had alluded, he was well endowed and now that she saw him fully erect she gave a little _Oh my_ sigh.

"We'll go real slow, right baby?" Daryl said, sensing her concern, kneeling on the bed and talking her hands in his, "I'd never hurt you—not for anything—you just need to relax and I promise it's gonna feel good...your body knows what to do...how to take what mine can give you...right?"

Carol nodded and after a long measuring look into his eyes lay back, pulling him along with her so he was poised above her. She felt him place his hips between her legs and opened them wider, felt the push nudge of the end of his cock against her, sliding up and back over her clit once or twice before finding her opening, heat and tightness his reward. She gasped as he started to push inside, tense, but he moved his fingers to her feather against her clit and his mouth went to her breast, noisily sucking down hard, his desire making his moves less smooth, more desperate.

"_God, Daryl?" _Carol gasped—he was filling her, relentlessly, slowly an inch at a time and she pushed up, jerking her hips into his, wanting all of him, right now, that pressure building again low in her groin needing an outlet. Daryl's head came up, mouth open, looking down at her in surprise.

"_Fuck! Carol!"_ Daryl swore, so tightly clasped inside her he was done, at the end of his ability to hold back and hoping she was ready, he began to thrust, jerky, rhythm-less, evening out as his tempo increased, feeling her hands at his sides and then on his behind, her sweet little pink painted nails digging into the muscles of his ass, urging him on.

"_Yes, oh yes, oh you're...right... you're...you feel so good..." _Carol moaned, and the easy glide and the tight clasp her body gave him, welcoming him, felt like coming home.

It was over sooner than he would've liked; she hadn't come again, but that didn't seem to matter to her, though it did to him. He held her close, tossing the used condom into the conveniently located trash can next to the bed—his brother was nothing if not prepared—and tried to apologize.

"Next time—I'll make sure it's better for you." Daryl said, pulling the extra quilt at the bottom of the bed over top of them.

"Better? If you make it any better I won't have a voice tomorrow!" Carol said, amused at the little frown and pout that marred his face.

"You didn't come—_during_—you didn't come. Did you?" He asked, sounding a bit like a Masters and Johnson survey.

"Was I supposed to?" Carol asked, puzzled.

"Well, _yeah._.." Daryl said, side-eyeing her, not sure if she was kidding.

"Oh. Well that sounds like fun." Carol said with a little smile. "We can try that later. We have all night, right? Right now you tuckered me out." And then she gave him a cute little kitten yawn and snuggled up against him.

"Fun. Uh huh." Daryl murmured, feeling pretty tuckered himself, looking down at the spitfire curled peacefully into his side. That was what he'd promised her. Fun. And he wondered if falling in love was supposed to be _this_ much fun...

* * *

><p><em>Hope it was worth waiting for. More to come.<em>

_If you have time, let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Daryl and Carol's first night together continues, as he works to fulfill a promise. Later, encounters with others test the new couple's bond._

_Warnings: Starts with a bit of smut & contains a short B*th appearance in the second scene if that bothers anyone._

* * *

><p><p>

7)

"Daryl?" Carol said quietly, running her fingertips over the upper demon tattoo on his broad shoulder. She been awake, lying on her side and watching him sleep by the light from the moon coming in through the window for about the last half hour or so. His messy mop of sandy hair covered half his peaceful face as he lay on his belly next to her and he was lightly snoring. She smiled at that but didn't think she'd ever get tired of being near him.

Yes. He was attractive, but that was only a small part of why she was so happy to be here with him. Okay, the amazingly good in bed part didn't hurt either—what he had done for her earlier had been mind blowing—but he had also shown her that he _cared_ about her, her feelings, that he wasn't with her just for the physical. They'd both bared not only their bodies, but also the scars that living had left on their souls, sharing the pain that others and bad choices had caused them.

"_Hmmph?"_ Daryl muttered, not moving.

"Are you awake?" Caryl asked, leaning in and pressing her lips to his shoulder.

"No, m'talkin' in my sleep." Daryl softly grunted, still not moving.

"_Daryl!"_

"Whatta ya need, sweetheart?" Daryl chuckled and rolled over so they were face to face. His warm blue eyes met hers, his mouth eased in a lazy grin, his arms going around her.

"May I ask you something?"Carol said, frowning a little in what looked like embarrassment.

"Anything." Daryl said, nodding, leaning in and placing a little kiss on her turned up nose and then started on the rest of her sweet face, cheekbone, jaw, cheek.

"When you said...about me _not_...during?" Carol wondered aloud, finding it a bit hard to concentrate as his hands started roaming as well, finding the curve of her ass and lightly, almost absently caressing it.

"_Mmm hmm."_ Daryl murmured, his lips at that delicate little place where jaw meets ear, making her shiver.

"Well, how does that _work_?" Carol pressed, "I mean I know that what you did, with your mouth _before_ works and what I do when I'm _alone_ works, but should I just...is there something that I didn't _do_? When you were inside me? Was that why I didn't?"

That's what Ed had always intimated. That she got no pleasure from the act was because there was something wrong with_ her_, that she was frigid and couldn't have a "normal" orgasm from "normal" sex. He never did much foreplay, just rough squeezes and pinches to her, according to him, "too small tits," and then he pulled out the tube of KY—totally uncaring if she was really ready for him. She had no say, no control over what happened to her body.

So this had been a new experience for Carol; she couldn't believe the time that Daryl had taken to prepare her, how he'd lavished his attentions on her whole body: kissed her, called her beautiful, had been turned on by how wet she had gotten for him and then had made her come so powerfully that she'd almost passed out.

"I could beat the shit outa that man for what he did to you, I really could." Daryl said with a sigh, his hands cupping her firm silken breasts as his thigh moved between hers. Glancing to the bedside clock he saw it was two a.m., they'd napped a couple of hours, and he was more than ready to start round two.

"He's gone, Daryl." Carol assured him, her hands running soothingly over his shoulders, leaning in to kiss his collar bone.

"Good. Let's make sure we exorcise his asshole ghost with a little lesson in how good it feels to come when I'm inside you..." Daryl growled.

Carol felt his hardness growing against her thigh and made a moan of agreement.

"Show me?" Carol asked. "What to do?"

Daryl reached up and past her head, snagging a condom from the nightstand and handing it to her.

"Help me with this?" he requested and Carol gave him a questioning look. Earlier she'd been reassured that what he'd said about being safe was true when he'd used one, but Ed never had, so other than the banana in sex ed class in high school she'd had no occasion to hone the technique. The chance to touch him _there _though was something she couldn't pass up. She used both hands to open the package and then took the small translucent circle in one hand while she pulled away from him enough that she could look down his body and see his cock, which seemed to swell in appreciation of her gaze.

"_Go on..."_ Daryl urged softly, "You can touch me...I _want_ you to touch me, Carol..."

Somehow going right for the money seemed a bit too bold to her, so Carol started at his neck, tracing the strong column, finding a tiny tattoo above his left collarbone, an x—was that for a kiss? Just in case she leaned in and kissed him there, and then looked down to his pectoral to the name in fancy blue script over his heart, someone important...she ran her finger over it as if she was rewriting it for him, silently asking.

"_I'll tell you...later...okay?"_ Daryl told her, closing his hand over hers, holding it against his heart.

Carol nodded and he released her hand. She continued to move it on down, brushing over his small nipple, circling it, watching his face, doing for him what he'd done for her. When she leaned in, her lips hovering over the erect nub, he sucked in a breath and gave a small groan; an inarticulate plea and she flicked her tongue out and over it, the salt of his skin bitter, the flesh sweet, the combination irresistible. Sucking down hard she let her hand rest on his abs, felt the hard muscles there jump against it as she continued to suckle and lick.

"Ah yeah, sweetheart...your mouth is _so_ damn sweet..." he murmured encouragingly, hoping she'd take the hint and continue her exploration of him a little further south; hard and aching for her touch. Her hand on his belly inched lower and he gave a whimper, a little too high pitched, bringing her head up to look at him, one eye brow arched.

Daryl quirked a little side of the mouth grin at her and then hitched his hips with a small grunt and closed his eyes on a moan when her hand slid down to wrap around the base of his straining member. Carol stroked up, watching him, feeling the heat and power of him under her fingers and palm, the satin soft skin over distended veins and marble solid flesh. Every part of him was beautiful, none more so than this.

When she reached the ridge of the flared head he made that noise again, that panting higher pitched whimper that delighted her—it meant she was in control, pushing him beyond his limits somehow and it emboldened her so that, holding him firmly a few inches out from his abs, she quickly closed her mouth over him, using the same lick and suck she had at his breast, her other hand with the condom closing over his hip to hold him still.

"Oh fuck _yes,_ sweetheart." Daryl groaned, his head falling back onto the pillow as he enjoyed her tentative but focused attention to his dick. She teased him, whether by design or inexperience he couldn't really be sure, but it was exquisite torture. He felt himself swell even further and his balls tightened up and he jerked in her mouth, whimpering again.

Carol felt a small salty spurt of pre-come on her tongue and pulled back, raising her other hand and looking up at him questioningly.

"_Hurry..."_ Daryl panted.

The lubrication of her play made sliding the small circle onto him easier. He showed her how to leave room at the tip as a reservoir to capture his seed and she was so attentive to the lesson she made him feel like the Henry Higgins of sex.

"Com'ere." Daryl said, laying back and pulling her over top of him, positioning her so she was sitting astride him, his right hand finding her cleft and pushing through the swollen flesh there to find her clit, circling it, making her gasp.

"_Daryl?"_ Carol said, wholly unused to this position.

"This is one way—I do_ this_ or _you_ do this while I fill you, slow and easy, right?" Daryl told her, taking hold of his cock and fitting it to her center.

Carol nodded her assent, moving her body forward and then down, helping merge his body with hers.

"Mmm...god, you're like a fisted velvet glove, darlin'..." Daryl hummed, loving the feel of her as she moaned and shifted to accommodate him, arching her back forward and bracing her hands on his belly as he pushed up into her.

Carol felt him continue to play at her clit, the sparks of sensation slicing through her as he stretched her with his girth, the tension showing on her face, in her body as she narrowed her eyes and her forehead puckered.

"Carol, look at me..." Daryl said, focusing her attention on his face, "...this is nice, right?" he asked in a husky voice, "I can see your beautiful eyes—your sweet suckable tits—"

"_Daryl!"_

"What? They are...sweet..." he looped his left hand around her shoulder and pulled her forward so he could get at her nipples with his mouth, using his tongue to draw them up against the roof of his mouth, moving back and forth between each breast, ramping up until she was writhing on him. Between his mouth and his fingers and his cock so full and hard she was drowning in sensation, surrounded by him, filled by him...

"_Please..."_ Carol breathed, her fingers digging into his shoulders so he would raise his head to look at her.

"_Please what? Tell me what you want, Carol...do you want to come? Is that what you want?"_ Daryl asked, excited, eager to move but holding back, making sure she was ready this time.

"_I want..." _Carol sobbed, _"Please Daryl!"_

"_It's all right sweetheart. Come for me—let go..." _Daryl told her and then began to move within her, working for his own release as well as hers. He felt a sense of exhilaration as she wailed and clenched around him, reaching her peak as he thrust up harder, faster.

"Look at me." Daryl asked, his breath coming in gasps now as he churned his hips, his hands moving to her waist and slipping down to grab her ass, helping her move against him, ride him through the end of her orgasm, watching him with wonder, both of their pupils wide and almost obscuring the blue, both realizing at the same moment...

This was different.

This was new.

This was sex with a person you knew and cared about, a person you trusted to be there beside you when you woke up in the morning, to sit across from you at the breakfast table, to laugh with about something stupid you did at work or cry with over some sad memory or shit storm in life.

They were both scared to death of screwing up and losing this.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Two weeks later...<strong>_

Carol yawned, resting her chin on her hands. She glanced up at the big clock opposite the main desk of the University Library, where she toiled ten hours a week in her work study job. The money she earned here was deducted from her tuition as a scholarship, which was great, but didn't give her anything to live on, so she also worked twenty hours a week in the art labs setting up before and then cleaning up after the painting and ceramics classes as regular payroll, which gave her cash.

It had been two weeks since the first night she and Daryl had spent at Merle's apartment. She felt fairly comfortable now saying that they were dating, but still hesitant over what exactly that meant to Daryl vs. what it meant to her. They hung out with her friends from school and his family, but she had yet to meet any of the people he worked with, some of whom she knew were his good friends from the stories he and Merle told. She wasn't sure if he was holding back or the right social occasion hadn't yet arisen, but she felt like there was a part of him he still wasn't willing to share with her for some reason.

Last night she and Daryl had gotten together with Glenn, Tara, Andrea and her mystery date—the significant other they'd never met—to go bowling. It had been a wonderful night and Andrea's man had turned out to be a charming grey haired widower sage named Dale who'd bowled rings around all of them and entertained them with tales of his travels all over the States and Canada in his RV. He clearly adored Andrea and by the end of the evening the fact that he was probably twenty years her senior didn't bother any of them anymore. If Andrea and Dale were in love, more power to them. It wasn't like she was eighteen and he was forty-five. Late thirties and mid fifties weren't that far apart in life experiences.

After bowling it had been a night when Ellie was off and so could stay with Sophia and Merle, leaving Daryl and Carol free to use Merle's apartment. The four condoms in the bedside waste basket were evidence of their taking advantage of the chance to be alone together, but Carol was paying for it today, pleasantly sore in all the right places, but yawning through all of her classes and now through work.

Carol sighed, trying not to dwell on something that had happened last night in the bar part of the bowling alley when she and Daryl had offered to go fetch a round of drinks to bring back to everyone. As they were standing waiting for Andrea's Crown Royal and Coke, two women had blatantly ignored Carol to engage Daryl in conversation. The first had been one of his former conquests and the second wanted to be, having heard of his reputation from her friend.

Daryl had treated them with politeness but as they spoke, he reached out to drape an arm around Carol's shoulder in the casually possessive way Glenn had witnessed after his modeling session, indicating that he was already engaged that evening. He hadn't introduced her, claimed her as his girlfriend or even as his date, just non-verbally asserted their connection. And though she hadn't said anything to him at the time; that had bothered her.

So when she saw him enter the library with the young perky breasted blonde from drawing class who was clinging to his arm like a limpet Carol felt a slight an urge to kick the girl's ass, wondering if being with him meant she'd just have to get used to other women constantly on the make around him.

"Told you she was here." Daryl announced triumphantly as he strode up to the desk and gave a wave of his left hand towards Carol and then patted Beth's hand, which seemed stuck, tentacle-like, to his bare muscular tan bicep in his sleeveless t-shirt.

"Oh, I'm so glad I found you, Mrs. Peletier! When I ran into Mr. Dixon... _Daryl_... out front and he said he might know where I could find you I was so relieved! Do you have the notes from Dr. Blake's class yesterday? I was just telling _Daryl_ I had to miss for pageant business." Beth said in a high girlish voice.

"Did you know she's Miss King County? Headin' for the state pageant next week?" Daryl said, smiling down at Beth.

As a matter of fact Carol did know. Miss Greene had been the subject of a feature story in the school newspaper's first issue of the semester which had a counterpoint op ed by the president of the Feminist Issues Association about the exploitation of women and the beauty myth perpetrated by pageants.

"I used the scholarship money from the county pageant to come here to school." Beth told them. "I want to be an art therapist and help all the traumatized children of the world—that's my platform." and her lip quivered with put on emotion as she looked back and forth between Carol and Daryl.

Carol swore the girl had even manufactured a tear that slid dramatically down her cheek.

"Well, now that's a right lovely sentiment Miss Greene." Daryl smiled, patting her hand again.

"Now ya'll must call me _Beth,_ Daryl!" Beth preened at his attention, her Crest white smile going wide, the little braid in her lustrous golden locks bouncing.

"You got your notes here, sweetheart?" Daryl asked Carol and Beth's face fell a little at the endearment he tendered to the other woman.

"They're on my PC—I can e-mail them to you." Carol told Beth, trying not to feel like she'd had an end run done around her. The notes were what she did that for the people in her study group, of which Beth was _not _a member. She was at best a C student and was struggling in the academic non-studio art-ed requirements because she simply missed too much class in favor of her outside interests.

"Oh, that would be _wonderful_—you're a doll, Karen!" Beth said with an air kiss, trying to steer Daryl back to the door, chattering to him about a new restaurant that she'd been wanting to try if he was free now for a late supper.

He, however, was like the proverbial immovable object. Extracting his arm from her hand Daryl took a step back and leaned on the counter.

"Don't you have something to say to _Carol_?" Daryl asked in the same voice he used to admonish Sophia when she let her wants obscure the need for courtesy.

Beth looked blankly at Daryl, over at Carol and then back to Daryl who raised an eyebrow.

"What? Well, look at you the politeness police," the girl said to him, frowning. She looked back at Carol, "Carol doesn't care, do you? I certainly don't think she'd want to be a third wheel at our dinner date..."

"I think you've got a few things backwards, _Beth_." Daryl snorted at her. "The reason you found me out on the quad is that I was already on my way here to pick up Carol for _our _date."

Beth frowned even harder, the idea not computing.

"You're _dating_? Are you sure?" Beth sputtered, making Carol and Daryl exchange a mutual look of raised brow disbelief.

"I'm sure." Daryl said solemnly and reached across the desk to take Carol's hand.

Carol felt a surge of warmth, wondering at his sudden need to declare their relationship publically, but happy he was doing it. She knew she could've done the same thing, but being with Ed had conditioned her to let the man take the lead, something she was constantly fighting with herself to leave behind.

"Well...oh...well, all right...I suppose that's all right..." the young blonde said, her dark brows drawn together, still looking somewhat confused. "I mean—like you go to dinner and stuff?"

"Dinner, bowling, movies, bed..." Daryl drawled laconically and then looked over at Carol, "That about cover it darlin'?"

"We also go for rides on your motorcycle." Carol said, tapping her pen to her chin thoughtfully, "And there was that concert, but we didn't stay until the end."

"My fault—I just couldn't get into Gregorian chant." Daryl said sorrowfully, kissing the back of her hand.

"You made it up to me later." Carol cooed with a satisfied smile, knowing they were laying it on thick, but pissed off that the girl found the idea of them together so unlikely.

"Your shift about over?" Daryl asked, and when Carol nodded affirmatively he leaned all the way across the desk and gave her what could only be described as a lip smacking downright dirty hot kiss, heavy on the tongue, totally inappropriate to their surroundings.

"Oh... well...I guess I'll be going then." Beth said limply, still looking perplexed, backing away as they continued to kiss and fleeing.

When they finally came up for air there was a short burst of applause from the other patrons and a reprimand from her supervisor, the Reference Librarian at the desk across the way, and Carol was sent to shelve a cart of books before she was allowed to leave. Daryl was requested to wait for her outside the building, obvious visions of what mischief they could get up to in the stacks in the forefront of the librarian's mind.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later when Carol finally came through the doors wearing her leather jacket, ready to go, she found Daryl sitting backwards on one of the wooden benches at the edge of the quad, reading a dog eared copy of <em>Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, <em>grinning at her.

"You got me in _trouble_." Carol accused petulantly, not realizing quite what she'd said until he went white and dropped the book. She quickly hurried over to him, scooping up the book and sitting down next to him, taking his hand.

"Sorry—Deja vu all over again..." Daryl muttered with a grunted chuckle of derision.

"No I'm sorry—I wasn't even thinking about what I was saying—how I phrased it." Carol apologized, wondering if that was what Phil had said, as if it had been all Daryl's fault somehow, refusing to accept any of the responsibility.

"What would you do? If that happened to you?" Daryl asked slowly, watching her closely out of the corner of his eye.

"To _us_," Carol corrected and Daryl let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Happened to _us_."

"I don't even know if it could. It never happened with Ed and we didn't do anything to prevent it."

"Could a' been him, not you." Daryl reasoned.

Carol nodded, realizing she should be taking more responsibility for birth control in this relationship. There were plenty of options in addition to condoms that she should investigate...and that would also be a reason to have the tests that Ed had forbidden her during her marriage.

"It's not the best time—you're in school, we haven't been together very long..." Daryl said slowly, breaking her reverie.

_Together_, Carol liked that.

"It does feel too soon to be thinking about things like this...but as soon as we started sleeping together it became a possibility, didn't it?" Carol sighed. She really did need to make an appointment with a gynecologist, vowing to ask Andrea for a recommendation.

"If it happened? And we're careful so it shouldn't, but if it happened?" Daryl asked, knowing it wasn't fair to ask her to commit to something so tenuous, but needing an answer from her anyhow.

Carol looked deeply into his eyes, searching her heart and then finally said what she knew to be true, for her at least.

"It wouldn't be like before...it'd be a _good _thing to _me_, Daryl."

Daryl stared at her for a few beats and then gave her a close mouth pleased but suppressed smile; nodded and then leaned over to kiss her quickly on the lips.

"We should go, Mom needs to get to work n' Soph n' Merle will be champin' at the bit." He said with forced lightness, feeling something too deep to be expressed, standing and pulling her up with him.

Carol nodded in agreement and handed him his book, shouldering her back pack as they headed for the bike, holding her hand to her abdomen in an unconscious gesture.

* * *

><p>"Hey Sis, you believe in that last wishes shit?" Merle asked Carol as they sat on the couch for Friday night movie night. Daryl and Sophia were out in the kitchen making popcorn—in an actual pan, not the microwave because that was the way Ellie always made it, with oil and salt and butter—while Carol scrolled through the films they had saved on the DVR and the ones On Demand, looking for one that they all would enjoy, which was no easy task. Merle had already rejected anything from Disney and Daryl had vetoed anything rated above PG.<p>

"Like a will?" Carol asked distractedly, trying to decide if Sophia would be traumatized by anything with an animal dying or in mortal peril, then realized it wasn't just the kid, _she_ would. Out went _Marley and Me_, definitely _Old Yeller,_ _The Red Pony_ and _The Yearling_.

"Nah—already got that nailed down—I mean like somethin' I wanta _do_, one last time..." he let his voice trail off, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and putting his hand on her knee, inching it slowly higher.

Carol immediately stopped what she was doing and raised an eyebrow while she looked down at his hand. She covered it with hers, grasping his middle finger and bending it back until he winced.

"Merle, I'm going to chalk this up to the heavy duty pain killers I know you're taking and calmly ask you to remove your hand before I call Daryl over here and let you explain why you have a broken finger, okay?" Carol's voice _was _calm but with an edge.

"Now that you and Derle actually done the deed I'm just disappointed that you ain't willin' to do me a solid and send me off with a smile on my face." Merle said mournfully as he withdrew his hand from her leg. Carol released his finger as well.

"Did you actually think I would_ sleep_ with you?" Carol said, now more amused than angry, knowing that Daryl's request for the use of his apartment had tipped off Merle that she and his brother had indeed "done the deed."

"You know it wouldn't be the first time little brother n' I_ shared _a woman." Merle said in a low voice and shrugged into a smirk.

Any verbal response to accompany Carol's open mouthed face of shock was interrupted by Daryl and Sophia arriving with the popcorn, divided into three bowls, Daryl juggling two.

"So you find one we'd all like?" Daryl asked, passing one of the bowls to Merle, keeping the larger one for him to share with Carol, plopping himself down beside her. Sophia settled in on his other side with her own smaller bowl and a juice box.

"Your gal ain't quite made up her mind there Derle." Merle said with snarky amusement, enjoying baiting Carol. "Seems she's pretty _particular._"

"_Frozen_!" yelled Sophia.

"I said no fu—reakin' Disney crap!" Merle vetoed adamantly.

"How 'bout _Princess Bride?"_ Daryl suggested, grinning at Carol who was glaring at Merle, and then picked up the remote and clicked through to the film, "Got some romance, sword fights, vengeance, and rats of unusual size — something for everybody."

"Yay! Princess movie!" Sophia said happily, bouncing around enough that about a third of her popcorn spilled out onto the couch and floor.

"Almost as bad as Disney crap..." Merle muttered petulantly. "You gonna let these women rule the roost baby brother? You whipped? You lettin' this little gal lead you around by your...nose?"

"Speaking of rats of unusual size." Carol muttered and shoved the popcorn bowl back onto Daryl's lap. "I need some air." and she stood and headed for the outside door, closing it with a snap behind her.

"What'd you do?" Daryl's eyes turned to Merle suspiciously, setting the bowl down on the coffee table.

"_Whaaat?"_ Merle protested with an air of false innocence, drawing the word out, looking extremely shifty.

Daryl hit play and pocketed the remote so Merle couldn't change channels.

"You stay here and watch with your Uncle Merle." Daryl told his daughter, standing and grabbing the small garbage can near the end table, handing it to her, "And pick up that popcorn you spilled, please honey?"

"Okay daddy." Sophia said, looking around, frowning, "Is Miss Carolanna coming back?"

"I'm gonna go check on her." Daryl told her. Merle grunted and crossed his arms over his chest, making Daryl notice how thin they looked in the short sleeved tee. Merle had always been the burlier of the two Dixon boys, but these days big brother had the weight and muscle mass of a pre-adolescent, as if he'd regressed to being a teenager, the cancer robbing him of his vitality pound by pound.

"Okay." Sophia said agreeably as she began scooping up the fluffy white popped kernels she'd spilled and dumping them in the trash, adding, "Tell her to hurry or she'll miss too much princessing."

Carol was outside sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs around the now cold fire pit. At least once a week they'd had a campfire and roasted hotdogs, marsh mellows, even corn and potatoes. Daryl claimed knowing how to build a good fire was a basic survival skill and you never knew when it might come in handy, so they took turns laying the wood and starting the fire.

There was no fire tonight.

She sat with her thighs raised up tight against her chest, her arms wrapped around her bent legs, totally closed off. Daryl could feel the waves of confusion and anger rolling off her.

"He's always been an asshole." Daryl said without preamble, "Cancer just removed his filters. I'm sorry for whatever—"

"He said you'd be okay with _sharing_ me." Carol said in a small angry, hurt voice.

"He said _what_?"

"He said you'd shared women before and that I should do him a solid." Carol repeated, and then her tone turned bitter, "Tell me, do I take on both of you at once, or consecutively—one at a time? Different days?" She wiped the tears off of her face and looked up at him, the anger and pain clear now, "Was that what this has all been about, Daryl? Finding someone you could rope into caring about you and your family so much I'd be willing to fuck you _and _your brother?"

"_God damn it!"_ Daryl seethed, furious at Merle, but also pissed off at her for doubting him, doubting what he felt about her. "How can you think that? Don't you know—"

"Is it true? Did you?"

"Not like what you're saying—not on purpose—I didn't find out until way after the fact that he sicced 'em on me—said it was to build up my confidence, give me sure thing...after Phil left... Didn't know he'd already been with 'em—just two that's all." Daryl told her. Merle hadn't told him until years later what he'd done. At the time Daryl had thought he was a hot shit stud talking the honeys into his bed. What an idiot he'd been.

Daryl came and knelt at Carol's feet in front of the chair.

"He's jealous, Carol. Of what we have. _What_ _he'll_ _never have_. He's jealous and mean and alone and dying..." Daryl said with gentle adamancy, moving his hands to rest on the arms of the chair, almost but not quite embracing her. "Please Carol, you have to believe me, the _only_ bed I ever want you to want to be in is mine." he let his hands drift up to smooth up and down her upper arms, "The only touch _mine_..." he lifted her chin, "...the only kisses you give for _me_..." he stared into her eyes, silently asking her to believe what he was telling her; asking permission to kiss her.

"Daryl, what do you want from this? From us?" Carol asked, putting her fingers over his lips. "We spend all of our free time together, I sleep here to watch Sophia and Merle or stay with you at Merle's almost every night of the week that I don't have early class or you work. My life has become so intertwined around you and yours in the last month... and I've just let that happen without really considering what it meant."

"Aren't you happy?" Daryl asked, his mouth twisting into a frown.

"Yes, I am very very happy." Carol told him, giving a sad little smile at his earnest expression. "But I have trust issues—you know that—and what he did tonight, what Merle _said_ to me pushed all the wrong buttons...that was the kind of thing Ed accused me of Daryl—bringing men into our home when he wasn't there, more than one man—and then he would 'punish' me."

"When the bastard almost killed you." Daryl said flatly, wishing he could punch Merle in the face for doing this to her, undermining what he had been trying so carefully to create between them.

"He controlled me Daryl—everything I did was for him-nothing was for _me_."

Daryl looked at her, trying to understand what she was getting at, a sick feeling starting in his gut.

"It's too easy for me to do—that's my pattern—I let someone else's needs become mine and I lose myself in them...in _him_..." Carol looked down at him, her eyes filling. "I'm wasting the rent money I pay Mrs. McCloud, I'm never there...I'm already so attached to Sophia I know her every class and after school thing as well as I do my own...I even care about your asshole brother so much it's gonna rip my heart out when he..." Carol stopped, the tears spilling over, taking a breath, "I just...I need some space, Daryl..." she choked out.

Daryl went cold. She was leaving him. He'd just found her, just let her in and she was leaving.

_What about what I need? _Daryl screamed inside his head. She was _leaving _him...

"I'll tell Soph you don't feel good—run you back to Woodbury." was what he said out loud, his voice dull and quiet and his gaze downcast.

"No—_Daryl,_ I don't mean right this second." Carol said, reaching out and taking his face in her hands and making him look at her. She saw the hurt there, the fear of abandonment he tried so hard to hide from everyone. She kissed him then, trying to show him how much she cared about him, that this wasn't even really about him, it was about _her,_ what she needed to do to feel like she had control of her own life.

Daryl returned the kisses hungrily, his relief apparent in the way he held her tightly.

"I've got exams coming up this coming week; I have a lot of studying to do." Carol explained, resting her forehead on his, "I also need my eight hours of sleep every night..." she chuckled. When she stayed at the apartment with Daryl sleep was not the thing uppermost on _either_ of their minds.

"What days—your tests?" Daryl asked, rubbing his scruffy cheek against hers.

"Next Wednesday and Thursday." Carol told him, hoping he understood that meant she'd be studying every night until then, so she'd have to have the time to herself.

"So after tonight I'll see you in a week." Daryl said with a stoic nod. He could do this. Give her space. As long as he knew she was coming back.

"And we're still on for Thanksgiving?" Carol asked; kissing him again, tenderly, sweetly thanking him for understanding and accepting.

The November holiday was the week after. She had to make an appearance at her father and step mother's brunch, bringing her new "beau," as Mary put it, but then they had planned to have the real meal at Daryl's mom's with her, Sophia, Merle and several of his fellow firefighters and their families. It was the first time he was meeting her family and she had been nervous about asking him, not wanting him to feel pressured, but he had readily agreed. It was also the first time she would be meeting his work friends and she was nervous about that as well. They were pretty much even in the_ "Oh shit it's our first real family holiday together" _contest.

"Still on." Daryl told her, nuzzling her neck. "Stay with me tonight? Just to sleep?"

"If I'm in your bed you know we won't just sleep." Carol said, pulling back to look at him skeptically. He knew she tried to be quiet, but when push came to shove she was just plain _loud_ in bed. Unwilling to traumatize Soph or titillate Merle they restricted their sexcapades to the apartment. When she stayed over at the house either he wasn't home or she slept in Sophia's room on the upper of her new bunk beds.

"If I don't get to see you for a week I need you here with me tonight." Daryl pleaded. They couldn't just go back to the apartment and leave Merle and Sophia alone without Ellie who was gone to the hospital on night shift.

"You have to promise, just _sleep_." Carol said, knowing she'd be embarrassed as hell if either Sophia or Merle heard them fooling around, especially after what the elder Dixon had asked earlier.

"I just want to hold you, honey." Daryl murmured, and then he quietly admitted something he'd felt but had been unwilling to admit to her, _"I sleep better when you're with me."_

"_Me too."_ Carol said in a small quick voice and she snuggled against him, her heart doing a funny little flip, kissing his neck where her face came to rest.

"Gonna be a long week." Daryl sighed, his arms going around her.

* * *

><p><em>Well, they're muddling through. This relationship stuff is new to both of them and it's hard to overcome old patterns as Daryl especially will soon see...<em>

_Thanks for reading!_


	8. Chapter 8

_All right, I will admit that this particular chapter gave me fits and I've worked it and reworked it several times. It is pretty heavy duty with the angst, so be forewarned, but hang in there._

* * *

><p>8)<p>

The slow steady beeping of his cell phone's pre-programmed 6:00 a.m. alarm tone roused Daryl from sleep. He raised his pounding head, nauseous and disoriented, and then wished he hadn't as he slitted open his sandpaper dry eyes and looked around.

_Fuck. _

Where the hell _was_ he?

The vaguely familiar bedroom was decorated in a decidedly feminine style, a pink orange scarf draped over the bedside lamp to mute the harsh light, casting a warm glow around the room. Above him the pink canopy of a white wash stained oak bed was strung with small twinkle lights as well, looking like stars in an early dawn sky.

The last thing he remembered was...shit...the _bar_...meeting up with Shane and a couple of the guys from the station in a Woodbury bar, McMurphy's, with most of the rest of Merle's crew while doing a salvage job over there. He'd taken a couple of days off from work so he could supervise this tear down of an old Victorian that his brother had committed to almost a year ago.

Last night he'd been talked into going out with the boys and since his mother was with Merle and Sophia at the house and he was still giving Carol her "space," he figured why the hell not.

Daryl had been feeling sorry for himself. It was only Wednesday, half way through his week without her and he missed her so much he could taste it; dreamed about her soft voice and sweet lips; had at least ten things a day he wanted to tell her or ask her about; missed her so much he actually got sick to his stomach thinking she might _not _be missing _him_ as much, which in turn pissed him off.

He was a mess.

So he went out drinking with his buddies. Just like he did before she'd dropped into his life. Before every other thought he had seemed to be about her. He even made a plan to crash at Cesar "Marty" Martinez's place if it got too late or he got too drunk to head back to Senoia just so he wouldn't be tempted to call Carol and beg her to meet him at Merle's apartment.

However this was definitively _not _Martinez's fold out couch.

_Fuck._

Bits and pieces of the previous night flitted in and out of his brain. The challenge to do tequila shots coming from that bastard Shane after three texts to Carol went unanswered by her; knowing she was probably just busy studying with her phone turned off like any sensible person would do, but that panicked sick feeling in his gut rising none the less.

He remembered sitting at their table along with about eight guys, super fit firefighters and big burly construction worker types, guys of all shapes and sizes for any woman's taste. Periodically one of the men would approach one of the women in the various groups gathered around the place and ask her to dance or to join him for a drink and soon it was only Daryl, Marty, Shane and a little weasely guy who Daryl had never liked much but for some reason Merle refused to fire, Allen, left at the table.

Perhaps trying to get on Daryl's good side, Allen had ordered two pitchers on his tab and insisted that the others join him. Daryl was on his second beer and Allen had gone to refill the empty pitchers when Martinez started ragging him about the three attractive women standing at the end of the bar. They were talking with Allen and then checking out the men at his table.

Daryl recognized the brunette as someone he'd been with about a year ago in the previous semester at Carol's school; Tina something? Met her from modeling in the same art class, so she was probably in the same major as Carol and maybe even _knew _her.

Shit.

What the hell was he supposed to do with _that_? He'd slept with a lot of women in the last five years. That had kind of been the point of Merle's School of Fuck. He'd never lied to Carol about that—she knew that much from how they'd met, right?

Then why did it make him feel guilty as hell when the other woman's dark eyes met his and she gave him a knowing smile?

At that point Allen had returned, bringing the three women and two more pitchers of beer along with him. Daryl started to sweat—literally—when the woman he'd recognized sat on his lap, put one hand on his shoulder and the other on the side of his waist and planted a big kiss on him as a greeting. She tasted like rum and cigarettes. He didn't respond to the kiss, but found himself remembering those long nailed hands, that lush mouth and what else she could do with it...

"Dance with me, Dix." the brunette said with a lazy smile, looking like she was confident that she wouldn't be going home alone tonight.

Daryl then lifted the big mug Allen had just filled for him and took a long drink, emptying about half of it, starting to feel the buzz from the tequila compounding with the beer. He frowned at her, knowing it wasn't a good idea, but the other guys started in on him again, saying he was pussy whipped, and to escape their abuse he let her pull him along out on to the dance floor.

"So how the hell you been, Dixon?" she asked, reaching up to twine her arms around his broad shoulders, her fingers finding the long sandy hair at his nape.

"Fine—how you been, Tina?" Daryl asked politely, wincing slightly at the touch of her cool fingers against his neck, keeping his hands lightly at her waist, already regretting the decision to dance with her.

"_Ro-zeeta."_ The brunette said, hitting the "z" and the second syllable hard, stopping and narrowing her eyes at him, her hands moving to the points of his shoulders, digging her nails in like a startled cat.

"Shit—sorry—_Rosita_." Daryl said quietly, dropping his hands from her waist and wincing again. He'd been so _sure_ it was Tina. He cleared his throat, ready to try and smooth things over with her, but she beat him to the punch.

"No, _I'm_ sorry I didn't make more of an impression—I only gave you a blow job in your pick-up after class and then took you home and fucked you twice before you skipped out without a word." The woman said, her tone dismissive acid, taking her hands off him.

Daryl swallowed hard and sighed before he raised his eyes to hers again, feeling curiously light-headed and a bit unsteady on his feet. He had no doubt that was exactly what had happened between them. It was no different than any number of encounters he'd had over the last several years. Get in, get some, and get out. No entanglements, no commitments.

"Yeah, well...told you how it was... wasn't _tryin' _to be a dick." Daryl said, pursing his lips wryly.

"Could've fooled me."Rosita snorted.

"Wasn't." Daryl said, swaying slightly. "Been workin' on it. _Not_ to be." Someone had given him reason not to be; yeah, _someone_ had. A small blue eyed force of nature who'd broken through his patterns and showed him what he'd been missing.

Rosita gave him a skeptical look.

"Thought I was up front with you, Rosita—told ya back then it _ain't _no damn romance novel." Daryl explained, wiping at the perspiration dripping down the side of his face with his shirt sleeve, wondering why the hell it was so hot in this damn bar.

"So it was just for the sex." Rosita said in a low hostile tone.

"Well, yeah." Daryl said, blinking at her, wondering what her point was and wishing she would stop being so blurry. "M' real sorry if you felt hurt by that, but that's what it was. _All_ it was."

"Okay. I can handle that." the woman said, her voice changing to low and husky, taking his hand in hers and leading him off the dance floor and down the hall way towards the restrooms.

"What?" Daryl felt like he was talking to her in some hollow space—her voice echoing and far away, stumbling slightly, his head going fuzzy again. _Where the hell were they going?_

"I can _handle_ that—you, me—just fucking? You were the best I ever had, Dix. I admit it; I did get my feelings hurt when you didn't even ask for my number back then. Thought we had fun." Rosita pouted, pulling him through a door and then pushing him back against the wood paneled wall, her hands busy at his belt.

"_Th'ell ya doin'?"_ Daryl slurred, trying to raise his uncooperative hands to push her away, _"Ca-can't..."_

And that was the last thing he remembered before waking up just now.

Daryl lifted the pink coverlet off of him and groaned when he saw he was nude, guilt washing over him like an icy high tide. He'd never been so drunk that he had a black out—_never—_and it scared the shit out of him that he'd done something so asinine as to hurt Carol like this.

What the fuck was _wrong _with him?

A soft knock on the door had him whip his head around, looking for his clothes, but they weren't in the frilly bedroom as far as he could tell. He pulled the cover back up over him, even while acknowledging to himself that it was a moot point. He'd obviously gone home with that chick Rosita...

"Yeah?" he grunted.

"You decent?" a woman's voice asked, making Daryl sigh, then frown, _why the hell would she care if he was or wasn't?_

"Whatever." Daryl said and the door pushed open.

"You look like shit." The owner of the voice said with a laugh and Daryl's brow knit in confusion.

"_Sasha_? What the hell?"

Sasha was one of the two female fire fighters at the Woodbury station, another EMT. Sasha was a good friend.

"You remember anything about last night?" his friend asked as she came and sat of the edge of the bed, handing him his freshly laundered clothes. Daryl took the garments and frowned at her, his mouth opening and shutting a couple of time before he spoke.

"McMurphy's, Shane and Marty, Merle's crew, some of the guys, drinking, dancing ..." he offered hesitantly, "A woman..." and then shrugged. "Not much after that..."

"You are one lucky son of a bitch that I found you when I did, Dixon." Sasha said sagely, putting her hand on his forearm. "Shane said you only had two shots and two beers—that sound right?"

Daryl thought back on what he recalled and nodded.

"Two n' a half beers I guess..." Daryl said.

"We think you were drugged—GHB probably—we'll need you to do a urine test..."

"_What the fuck?"_ Daryl exclaimed, his head pounding, the fragmented memories of last night starting to make more sense. He knew some of the common date rape drugs could be detected that way—depending on which one—for 12-72 hours after they were administered, usually in the victim's drink, odorless and tasteless, causing dissociation, suggestibility and symptoms similar to drunkenness after only a few sips.

"I came slamming into the restroom—we got there late and I really had to pee—and I saw this chick with her hands down your pants, but you were so out of it your dick wasn't cooperating and she was so pissed off she didn't realize I was there. I got her off you and yelled for Ty and we brought you here so we could make sure you were okay."

Daryl didn't know what to start asking about first. Knowing Ty had been with her helped explain how she'd gotten him here. The big man was her older brother, a King County Deputy Sheriff, and since the death of her husband in Afghanistan he'd been a constant steadying presence in both she and her daughter's life. He'd moved her in with him, keeping an eye on his sister and niece for the last several years, each the other's only remaining family.

"This is _Kaylee's _room." Daryl said, looking around, suddenly realizing why it looked so familiar. Sasha's daughter was a year younger than Sophia and the girls often had play dates.

Sasha almost laughed at how relieved Daryl looked. She knew that he had been seeing Carol, a nice little gal from the college that Sophia couldn't stop talking about. When she saw him looking so confused, unfocused and wobbly, being pawed by that angry Latin bombshell in the john, she knew something was very wrong.

"She bunked in with me last night." Sasha explained, nodding at him, "You really were out of it, weren't you?" she asked, shaking her head at him. He had passed out after she'd chased off the woman who'd been molesting him, but his vitals had been stable so they'd brought him here instead of to the ER, figuring she could monitor him at home just as well as they could in the hospital.

Ty wasn't too happy about it. What had happened to Daryl last night had been a crime and getting to the root of it was his job.

"What happened to her-Rosita?" Daryl asked, scrubbing his hand over his face wearily.

"You're not going to like the answer." Sasha sighed, "She took off and so did her friends when I yelled for Ty n' Shane to come help me."

"You knew her?" A deep voice said from the doorway as Tyreese leaned in to check on how Sasha was doing with rousing their guest.

Daryl nodded, grunting out a regretful sigh.

"From awhile back—year ago maybe—name's Rosita."

"Rosita what?" Ty pressed but Daryl just narrowed his eyes and looked down at the pink coverlet. If he'd ever known her last name he'd forgotten it.

"She goes to school here—I met her at the University in an art class..." Daryl mumbled, racking his brain for a last name, for some other way to find her...

"Just like Carol?" Sasha asked, with a hint of approbation. She hadn't yet met the woman who had become so important to Sophia and she had thought, to Daryl, but she still felt compelled to stand up for her.

Daryl's head snapped up, his eyes so full of misery that Sasha thought twice about the next question she intended to ask, gentling her voice more than she'd originally intended.

"Why were you there with that woman, Daryl?" Sasha asked.

"I wasn't _with_ her." Daryl said hotly. "Met up with the boys there after the salvage job for a drink—you knew that." the fire company and the salvage crews all pretty much knew one another from socializing at the various backyard barbeques and holiday parties Daryl and Merle regularly hosted. Shane had put the word out they were meeting up at McMurphy's after work tonight and anybody off shift could join them.

"And she was just _there?_" Ty asked.

"That's right—at the bar—Allen...he talked to her n' her friends...then they came over to the table..."

Sasha and Tyreese exchanged a frown.

"Allen said you approached _her _at the bar." Ty said, "Asked her to dance, started making out on the dance floor—"

"Bull_shit_!" Daryl snorted. He was fuzzy on some of the details, but he knew for sure his days of looking for a quick pick up in a bar were behind him...shit...he knew for _sure..._suddenly crystal clear on what he needed to do immediately, Daryl looked up at Tyreese, over at Sasha and then a bit more frantically at the nightstand.

"Sash—need my phone." Daryl demanded, needing to talk to Carol, needing her steady calm warm voice, needing it _now_.

"It's 6:30 in the morning, Daryl." Sasha reminded him, still frowning.

"She gets up early." Daryl said impatiently, getting worried, what if those women at the bar knew Carol? Said something to her before he could explain what had really happened? What if _Rosita_ knew her?

"It's in the nightstand drawer," Sasha said, pointing beside him next to the bed.

Daryl rooted through the drawer, finding his phone and thumbing it on so he could scroll through his messages, looking for the usual morning greeting from Carol. She never said much, just a short hello and idea of what she'd be doing that day, but she always ended it with a number, the countdown to Friday, when her exams would be done and they would see each other.

Nothing. Not one message from her nor response to his texts from last night.

"_Daryl_—we need to figure out what happened to you." Tyreese said impatiently.

"He needs to check on Sophia." Sasha said meeting Daryl's anxious eyes with a little nod, knowing that wasn't the only call he needed to make.

Daryl gave her back a little nod of thanks.

"C'mon Ty, Kaylee's probably using her Fruit Loops to tempt the dog to eat her unfinished homework again." Sasha said with a grin.

Tyreese snorted at her and then tossed something at Daryl who caught it and frowned until he recognized it and then made a sour face. It was a specimen cup.

"Make sure you give it back to _me_ not Sasha—chain of custody." Tyreese ordered and then headed for the kitchen.

Sasha gave him a reassuring smile and patted him on the arm as she stood.

"Just tell her the truth. She'll understand, Daryl." she assured him, nodding at the phone still in his hand.

Daryl looked back at her hard like he was trying to divine if she was telling _him_ the truth or a hopeful placating lie. After a beat he nodded and she left the room.

"Make sure you fill that cup first thing, though." Sasha called back as she closed the door behind her.

Daryl looked back and forth between the cup and the phone and then grunted, realizing his bladder was making the decision for him, quickly getting up so he could pull on his jeans and head for the john.

* * *

><p>Carol woke to the sound of shrill electronic beeping of her old alarm clock, which she'd stopped using after she got her Smart phone—which could be programmed to wake her to the gentle gradually increasing in volume sounds of the surf—was making a sound equivalent to fingernails on a chalk board. She slammed her hand up to quell its screech and accidentally knocked it off the nightstand, still beeping like mad, now underneath her bed.<p>

"_Shit."_ Carol groaned, cursing not just the alarm clock but the fact that today she had to go get a new phone because last night she'd been forced to watch Glenn fling hers into the lake at the edge of campus and still didn't know why. Only the fact that the phone was insured against loss kept her from tossing him in after it...

Daryl would be wondering why she hadn't texted him. Mrs. McCloud didn't have a smart phone she could use...but she could use the land line downstairs to just plain _call_ him.

Duh.

Carol yawned, willing herself more awake; the events of yesterday playing back in her mind, jockeying for prominence in position. The fact that Andrea and Glenn had both gotten messages while they enjoyed their ride around the bike path and then Glenn immediately grabbed her buzzing phone and tossed it in the lake, refusing to answer any questions, wasn't even the most interesting thing that had happened.

"And of course, we'll be working closely together on the research project, Mrs. Peletier." Professor Blake said with a hint of a satisfied cat smile as he casually perched on the corner of the large dark mahogany desk there in his office. It was Wednesday morning and Carol was seated in a chair in front in imposing desk which meant that as the man swung his foot it almost, but not quite brushed up against the side of her pant leg.

They'd started this meeting with him seated on the other side, but as he spoke, full of compliments to her, he'd risen and moved around the desk, closer to her, invading her space inch by inch.

There was a scholarship, one which would pay all tuition and fees for the student who won it, being offered by the heirs of one of the big money donors to the University. It would be a coup for whichever Department's student won it, with the credit and glory for the win shared by the Chair and the winning student's advisor. Blake wanted that credit and glory and he had decided that Carol was the best candidate to win it for him.

"Thank you." Carol said, her voice a smooth still lake of calm. She didn't like Blake, didn't trust him, but the carrot he was dangling was something which would make her life so much easier it hurt to contemplate it. Playing it cool was her best defense though. If he thought she wanted it too much, was willing to do whatever he advised to get it, she was afraid of what he might require.

Carol wasn't stupid, nor was she naive when it came to the ways of men and their manipulations. Professor Blake reminded her uncomfortably of her former father-in-law. Ed's father was a powerful man—part of the reason that her ex-husband was doing his time for attempting to kill her, which had been reduced to aggravated assault on appeal, in a minimum security "country club" facility instead of in a real _prison _prison like West Georgia Correctional.

Blake had a reputation. Nothing overt or actionable so far, but there were rumors that he had been inappropriate with at least one research assistant at some undetermined time in the past and that the Dean had been keeping an eye on him—assigning him only male student assistants for the last several years. They were always the top of the class and if asked you would have been told that their gender was immaterial, but it was still ... _interesting_... still... _commented_ upon...

When Blake had asked her to stay after class on Monday to meet with him about a beneficial opportunity, she'd demurred, claiming she had to get to work and then asked if they could schedule the meeting for later in the week. He'd grudgingly agreed and she'd had time to research the scholarship to check its legitimacy and requirements. She had made the appointment through his secretary and had told her friends about it so they knew where she was.

She'd left the door open when she entered, unwilling to be alone with him in the small space, explaining with a self-deprecating smile about her claustrophobia, using it to her advantage. Blake had acquiesced with smooth finesse, holding the chair out for her before moving behind his desk. Carol wished he had stayed back there...

"I looked at your transcripts, Carol, may I call you Carol?" Blake asked, picking up a file from the desk top and opening it, again giving her that ingratiating smile, the toe of his brown Oxford just brushing her slacks.

Carol sat back in her chair and looked up at him, her gaze steady.

"I'd prefer Ms. Mason, actually, Dr. Blake." she finally said, jutting her chin forward.

Blake chuckled indulgently at what he probably considered her small act of defiance.

"Fine, Ms. Mason." the professor nodded, tilting his head at her, "But I'm sure as we get to know one another better the formalities will fall by the wayside..."

Carol narrowed her eyes and didn't respond, so Blake cleared his throat and started to ask her questions about the classes she had taken and her background. The undercurrent of a more _personal_ interest in her remained however, and Carol struggled to remain impassive.

Carol had considered talking to Daryl about it, but he'd been so good this week about backing off and giving her this time alone to study she hadn't wanted to bother him with it. She knew she was probably being paranoid; overreacting because the man just basically creeped her out, and so in the end decided to leave Daryl out of it for now. Him marching into Blake's office in some attempt to protect her virtue wasn't going to do either of them any good. She could handle it on her own.

If she got it, then she'd tell him about the scholarship as a nice surprise, knowing it would mean she could probably quit at least one of her jobs and so would have more time to spend with him.

_He'd like that. _Carol thought to herself, smiling. She'd missed Daryl like crazy over the last few days, her morning texts to him their only contact, but it had also been a chance for her to step back and evaluate what was happening between them.

His reputation as a player followed Daryl and a few of her acquaintances in the art program had tried to warn her off him, citing their own experiences with him or telling tales out of school about someone they knew who had slept with him. Maybe she was fooling herself, but Carol thought that what she and he shared was different than that.

Any story she'd heard about him was that it was only ever one encounter with amazing fantastic skillful sex, but that he was always out the door before dawn. Daryl made no promises and told no lies and any woman who tried for something more than his careful limits allowed was bound to feel hurt.

But Sophia had changed all that when she'd made her sleepy little trek down the staircase the night they'd met. Sophia had brought them together, allowed them the time to get to know one another on a different level.

Carol smiled to herself again, thinking of the little girl who had faithfully e-mailed her every day for the last week from school during her free period telling her little tid-bits about her day which invariably involved her father, uncle and grandma. Their little correspondence had helped them both; Sophia not to pester her dad about when they'd see Miss Carolanna again and Carol to not miss them all so much that she couldn't focus on her work.

Yet that had been the ridiculous truth of this whole exercise. She'd asked Daryl for space so she could concentrate on her studies, but more often than not in the last week she found her mind turning to him instead of memorizing Piaget's theories on stages of child development.

Still, she'd done fine on her test yesterday and was well prepared for the one today, thanks to the study group sessions. Last night she'd given her brain a break and had gone for the bike ride with her friends to clear her head, laughing and talking, wondering if Daryl was done for the day as well. She knew he had a tear down job in town and fought herself not to suggest they cruise down that particular street so they could just happen to run into him. They'd made an agreement. Friday was now only one day away. She could hack one more day.

Glenn and Andrea's odd behavior last night still bothered her. The fact that they'd totally clammed up about it after she'd gotten done yelling at them about her phone made her think that it had something to do with either Daryl or Blake and they thought they were protecting her from it. She vowed to herself to get to the bottom of it today after the exam.

Jumping out of bed she immediately crouched down and found the annoying screeching clock and turned it off. She stood and stretched her arms above her head, popping her back a little and then pulled out her yoga mat.

Her sleep clothes were basically her yoga ones so she could start the day with a light work-out, liking the mental alertness that the early morning exercise gave her. By the time she finished it was almost seven and she needed to get to the shower, grabbing her robe and heading down the hall to the bathroom.

"Carol?" Mrs. McCloud's voice filtered up through the stairs and Carol made a quick detour to look over the railing down to the first floor.

"Good morning!" Carol called back cheerfully.

"Um, dear, you have a visitor..." the older woman said, sounding a bit concerned, her voice rising at the end.

"A visitor?" Carol asked, puzzled.

"Yes dear, are you receiving?" Mrs. M asked. "It's very early..."

Carol smiled at the old fashioned expression, as if she were expecting a gentleman caller. She pulled her robe on and belted it, curious as to whom it could be. She was meeting Glenn and Tara for breakfast and a last cram session before Blake's test, but not until eight.

"It's fine, Mrs. M, I'll be right down." Carol called and started down the stairs, a ready smile on her face for whoever was waiting.

Half way down she stopped, her smile turning to a worried frown when she saw who it was, asking,

"What are _you_ doing here?"

* * *

><p><em>So who is at Carol's door? Could be any number of people...<em>

_If you were thinking unkind thoughts about Daryl as you read the first part of this chapter, remember he's been living his life in a certain way for a long time now and that includes his patterns of behavior in relation to women & with his peers. Unfortunately by the time he realized he wasn't doing what he wanted to be doing, the drugs given him took effect and he had little control over the situation. "Suggestibility" means going along with what is happening with little resistance and the drug also causes numbness in the arms and legs makes it even harder to fight an attacker off. Daryl was a victim of an assault._

_I liked having Sasha ride to Daryl's rescue;-)_

_And yes, Blake is his usual slimy scheming self, isn't he?_

_Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think when you get time._


	9. Chapter 9

_The whys and wherefores of Daryl's misadventure at the bar are revealed to some, but no one person has the complete picture yet._

* * *

><p>9)<p>

"Are you awake Uncle Merle?" the little girl lisp caught Merle off guard as he lay in his bed looking at his cell phone, contemplating the events he had helped set in motion last night. From what he had seen Daryl had royally screwed the pooch as it were, and Merle's little joke had spiraled out of control way beyond what had been intended.

When he'd had Allen drop a little mickey in baby bro's drink it was so's he'd maybe get a 'drunk and disorderly' out of it, embarrass Daryl for shutting down Merle's game with the little gal he'd been wettin' his whistle with in Merle's very own little love nest.

After taking Carol home last Saturday Daryl had returned white hot mad about the whole thing, telling Merle to back off, that Carol was _different._

As if Merle didn't already know that.

The boy was head over heels for her; Merle knew that, and she was just as gone over him. Carol already treated them all like family, had been so caring and kind to him in his hour of need that, well, Merle had kind of fallen for her himself.

If he'd been on top of his game he'd have made a play for her—serious—not just that feeble request for one final roll in the metaphorical hay. He'd figured she was such a kind-hearted little thing she might just go for it...but from what Daryl had said the bastard she'd been married to before had laid his hands on her with some accusations about getting' it on with more than one man and well, then he'd felt lower than a plumber's pants over a butt crack for what he'd said.

When Daryl told him Carol had asked for some "space," Merle had said a word in front of Soph that had earned him a light but stinging smack on the back of the head from his brother. He'd even gone so far as to call and give an apology to the woman, something a Dixon _never_ did. Carol had been gracious, but he could hear the pain underlying her words of understanding.

Then Daryl had played his trump card to get back at Merle. He'd told their _momma_ what Merle had done. She'd laid into him and he'd suffered daily since then hearing about how much Sophia missed Carol and how much Daryl had closed back in on himself without her. Merle hadn't realized how much just plain happier baby bro had been lately until he saw the taciturn moody grumbler return.

Merle thought Daryl deserved to be happy, but he also couldn't resist dishing out a little payback for loosing Ellie on him. Allen was one of those guys that was always ready to do a little something dirty when Merle asked, which was why he kept him on the crew despite the fact that he was at heart a lazy shit who'd stand and whine about a job instead of just pitching in and doing it. The fact that Daryl didn't like him also meant Allen would have an easy time provoking him in to a knock down drag out.

GHB was sadly easy to come by these days and once Daryl had been cajoled into going out with the boys after the job over in Woodbury, Merle's plan was on. Allen had been told to use just enough of the stuff to make it look like little bro couldn't hold his liquor and then start a bar fight that would bring the Sheriff, landing him in the pokey for a night.

It hadn't worked out that way.

Allen had decided to improvise when he'd met up with some bitch at the bar that had a grudge against Daryl and was jealous of Carol, who she knew, to boot. After the stupid asshole had slipped the drug—a double dose—right into Daryl's beer, the woman had all but stuck her tongue down his throat and taken him for a spin from the dance floor into the john.

Then all hell broke loose.

According to Allen, Sasha and Ty had shut it down before the woman had gotten little brother exactly where she wanted him, and it had been pretty obvious he was either wasted or roofied because they'd had to carry him out. Allen had stuck around and played concerned citizen, but the woman and her friends had bolted.

He'd just gotten off of the phone with the asshole who was crying about wanting hush money and protection if it came out that he'd been the one to add that extra 'garnish' Daryl's beer. The little prick was threatening to squeal and Merle needed to make some decisions pretty fast about how to handle all of this.

"Yeah, I'm up, kid. Whatta ya want?" Merle said, distracted from his dark train of thought by his niece gently leaning up to feel his forehead for any sign of fever like she'd watched her grandma do.

"Are you feelin' good?"

"Feelin' fine." Merle grumped. He'd had an okay night last night, not enough sleep after that fuck up Allen had called the first time, but the nausea was less so he'd been able to keep his supper down.

"Oh. Coz I want you to come to dinner with us tomorrow night—with daddy an me and Miss Carolanna." Sophia said excitedly.

"Huh? Oh—well, we'll see what your daddy says about that, okay honey?" Merle responded. Daryl hadn't come home last night after the debacle at the bar; Allen had said he'd gone home with Tyreese and Sasha and so far he hadn't checked in at home.

The sound of the front doorbell going off made both of their heads come up. They could hear Ellie make her way to the door and answer it, but not who was there.

"Maybe it's Miss Carolanna!" Sophia cried and jumped off of the bed, heading for the front room.

"About a day n' a half early if it is..." Merle objected, but slowly rose to follow her.

When they came out into the main room Merle was surprised to see that his mother was talking with a very agitated looking young Asian guy.

"You go stay in the kitchen, Soph." Merle ordered and the girl obediently went and sat at the kitchen table. Drawing himself up to his full height the elder Dixon son strode forward to back his momma up.

"Yes ma'am, I'm sorry it's so early, but it's important that I speak to Daryl as soon as possible." the kid said, his voice agitated.

"Well, I'm sorry Mr. Rhee, but Daryl is working a job over in Woodbury and stayed over there with one of his crew last night. He hasn't been home since yesterday morning." Ellie said, looking troubled.

"What's this about?" Merle asked, coming in closer and taking up position behind Ellie.

"Mr. Rhee, this is my other son, Merle." Ellie told Glenn. "Merle this is Glenn Rhee—he needs to speak with Daryl."

"You a friend of Carol's ain't cha?" Merle asked, knowing he'd heard Daryl talk about him and his girlfriend bein' besties with Carol.

"That's right." Glenn said impatiently, "And I thought _Daryl _was too but if last night is any indication of how he's going to treat her—"

"Last night? What do you know about last night?" Merle bit out, narrowing his eyes at Glenn. News traveled fast in a small town, but this was ridiculous.

Glenn pulled out his phone and stabbed it on, displaying a picture, holding it up for Merle and Ellie to see.

"I know he was putting the make on—" Glenn began hotly.

"What was daddy making, Uncle Merle?" Sophia interrupted from right behind them, disobeying Merle's order to stay in the kitchen, sounding confused. All three adults blanched and Merle grabbed hold of Glenn's forearm, lifting it so the girl couldn't see the picture.

"A surprise for Miss Carolanna, Sophie honey." Merle said in a light tone, but glared at Glenn, "Mr. Glenn an' me are gonna go_ outside_ an' talk about it now."

"But I wanna help!" Sophia said stubbornly.

"Now you know you're not so good with the secrets, baby cakes." Merle admonished her with a forced smile.

"Oh—it's a _secret _surprise." Sophia pursed her lips in understanding and then nodded sadly, acknowledging her poor secret keeping abilities.

"That's okay honey; let's go get some breakfast while Uncle Merle talks with Mr. Glenn." Ellie said, doing her best to hide her dismay at the photo Glenn had shown them. She had no illusions about how her sons had lived their lives in the past, but she had thought that Daryl had finally found someone he could really care about and to whom his daughter was already so attached. It broke her heart to think he could be so callous...

Ellie ushered Sophia away and Merle pushed Glenn back through the door and onto the front porch.

"Where the fuck you get that picture, boy?" Merle barked, taking the phone from Glenn who was a bit intimidated by the aggressive affect of the thin, pale and quite obviously ill man in front of him.

"Rosita's friend Rowan took it—tweeted it and a bunch of others of your brother going all man slut at McMurphy's last night—seriously—he couldn't hack a few days away from Carol before he was back to this kind of crap?" Glenn seethed.

"Shit...did Carol see this?" Merle asked, running his free hand over the graying stubble on his face, sounding very concerned.

"I hope not—we got her phone away from her before she did—but they're going to be all over campus by this morning, we can't keep her from seeing them forever."

"Shit!" Merle growled and then started dialing Glenn's phone.

"What are you doing?" Glenn asked, frowning at the elder Dixon.

"Giving my brother a heads up, you got a problem with that?" Merle said, working his fingers over the phone, his voice deadly soft, side-eyeing Glenn as he glanced up from the screen.

"So he can just explain it away?" Glenn scoffed, trying to take back his phone, but Merle quickly pushed send.

He didn't need to talk to Daryl, he just needed to send him the images and hope that he would know what to do about them. Merle thumbed off the phone and handed it back to Glenn.

"You got some balls for a Chinaman, I'll give you that." Merle said, looking Glenn up and down. "Derle could break you in half with one arm tied behind his back."

"I'm _Korean."_ Glenn bit out, shoving his phone back in his pocket and staring back at Merle defiantly. "And Carol's a good friend."

"Yeah, Sis is pretty special—and my brother is nuts about her—don't make no sense at'tall he'd be dickin' around on her—gotta be some other reason for those pictures." Merle hedged. He didn't want to tip his hand yet, let Glenn know about the GHB, but he needed him to calm the hell down before he made matters worse.

"Reason? Like what? He tripped and fell on her lips?" Glenn derided the very idea that Daryl could be an innocent in the matter.

"Looked to me like she was all over him—he didn't seem to be responding to it—look at his face, where his hands are." Merle suggested, hoping to sow some seeds of doubt.

Glenn pulled his phone back pout and scrolled through the pictures again—now that he looked more closely he saw that Merle was right. Daryl looked surprised and then uncomfortable in most of the shots—his body language was closed, his facial expressions masked and then downright confused.

Glenn looked up at Merle, his brows drawn together in thought.

"Rosita and her friends aren't exactly the shy quiet types." Glenn allowed.

"Maybe he was just trying to deal with a grabby bitch without makin' a scene." Merle offered with a shrug, "We've all been there, right son?" he patted Glenn on the shoulder. "Why don't we let him talk to Carol about it first without stickin' our noses in, awright?"

"You think he'll tell her?" Glenn asked, sounding unsure.

"Daryl don't run away from his problems—never has, always faces'em head on." Merle defended his brother.

"Yeah, well if he hurts Carol he's gonna have _more _problems." Glenn said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and thrusting his chin out.

"That's somethin' we can _both _agree on, kid." Merle agreed. "That boy's got a brain in his head, soon as he saw the pictures I just sent him, he left for her place." Merle nodded, praying to himself that was the truth of it.

* * *

><p>"What are <em>you<em> doing here?" Carol asked as she stood half way down the stairs. She had never seen Daryl look so disheveled. His hair was practically standing on end as if he'd just ripped off his motorcycle helmet and ran up the sidewalk to the porch without stopping, under his open vest his t-shirt was on inside out and not tucked in to his jeans.

Daryl looked up at her desperately, a bit wild eyed, as if he was trying to rein in a full blown panic attack, chewing on his lower lip, his phone gripped white knuckled in his hand. He stood on the threshold of Mrs. McCloud's house, looming over her tiny, slightly bent frame, unwilling to push around her, but vibrating with the need to get to Carol.

"Carol?" Daryl said in a raspy tentative voice as if unsure of his welcome.

"Slow down there son." Mrs. M chided, putting her small hand on his chest.

Daryl immediately stepped back and bent his head to look down at the small woman in her slippers and dressing gown, hair in old fashioned curlers under a scarf, visibly trying to get control of himself. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. McCloud, but I really need to talk to Carol." Daryl said as calmly as he could manage, his eyes rising to look at Carol again and she was surprised by the tears shining there. As she continued down the stairs she was even more surprised to see the large African American man in a King County Deputy Sheriff's uniform standing behind Daryl with a serious expression on his face.

"Are you in trouble with the law, Daryl?" Mrs. M asked archly, looking back over his shoulder at the Deputy.

"What?" Daryl asked, dragging his gaze back from Carol where she had stopped on the stairs.

"No ma'am he's not in trouble, as a matter of fact Daryl was the _victim _of a crime." Tyreese said in his deep rich voice.

Mrs. McCloud's hand rose to Daryl's chest again, this time in concern.

"Oh my! Dear—what happened?" the older woman asked.

"I'm sorry, but I really need to talk to Carol." Daryl said, more gently this time, placing his hand over hers, unwilling to discuss what had happened with her.

Mrs. M looked puzzled but nodded and stepped aside so both men could enter the foyer.

"You can go into the parlor." she instructed them, pointing to the doorway on the left and then over at Carol, who had come forward and taken Daryl's hand, something he seemed surprised by, but then very gratefully holding on tightly and then pulling her to him in a half hug, to which she responded by putting her arms around him and looking up into his face with concern.

"Are you okay?" Carol asked softly and Daryl mutely nodded yes.

Mrs. McCloud shut the door behind them as they entered, leaving the three young people in the small overly decorated front room with furnishings looking like they'd last been updated in 1978.

Daryl led Carol over to the orange and green slip-covered couch pushed back against the wall opposite the television and they sat there together. Tyreese stood back by the doorway, waiting.

"When you didn't respond to my texts or pick up when I called I thought...well, I thought...that you were angry, that you were so hurt that you never wanted to see me again...I thought..." Daryl began, holding Carol's hand in his and looking down at the phone in his other.

"Glenn threw my phone in the lake last night." Carol said, feeling a cold trickle of fear run down her spine, frowning at him, wondering how that action could be related to whatever Daryl was talking about—why would Glenn not want her to get calls and messages from Daryl?

"He _did_?" Daryl said, his head coming up, meeting her eyes. "Then you didn't see..."

* * *

><p><em>Earlier that morning:<em>

When Daryl had returned from filling his specimen cup his phone had been buzzing against the nightstand. Grabbing it, he thumbed it on and saw he had received a text with attachments from Carol's friend Glenn. He remembered the kid had asked for his number and address the first night when they'd all gone to the pub.

A sick feeling of dread came over Daryl as he opened the images attached. Someone, probably one of Rosita's friends, had posted a time stamped series of pictures of his bar encounter with the brunette last night. The first was her seated on his lap, kissing him, the second them dancing, the angle making it look like he had his hands on her ass instead of hovering at her waist, the third was them heading off the dance floor toward the restrooms.

The tagline on the pictures was "#Model behavior?" and the address line for the tweet included several of the art students he'd met through modeling, including Andrea, Glenn, that Beth girl... and then he felt his stomach drop through the floor, _Carol._

Had whoever had drugged him arranged this whole little disaster then? Was Rosita behind it all? Had she come there purposefully to seduce him and thus hurt Carol? Why would she want to do that?

Daryl tried texting and calling Carol again, but there still was no response.

_Shit._

Why the fuck hadn't he told Rosita he was seeing someone, just sent her on her way last night? Why hadn't he known better than to go drinking with a bunch of single guys on the make when he already had someone who trusted him, who cared about him like no woman ever had?

He knew now.

Daryl knew how he felt about Carol.

And he knew that he might be too late to tell her that.

He showed the pictures to Sasha and then Tyreese, who asked Daryl to forward them to his cell as evidence. The images had been sent via Instagram so they only had the screen name of the sender, but they might be able to get a subpoena to track down her real one if none of the other people she'd sent them to knew it.

"They sent them to Carol." Daryl said, looking lost and defeated, sitting slumped in one of the kitchen chairs.

"Sophia's Carolanna?" Kaylee's little girl voice piped up quizzically, looking at Daryl from across the table where she was writing something with a big green Crayola magic marker. "She's a nice pretty princess. Sophia _says._ She loves her."

Daryl felt the true weight of what he had done then. Yes, he had been drugged and the situation from which he had been rescued was out of his control, but choosing to be in the bar in the first place, to give in to his resentment over the fact that he was missing Carol, was his decision. The hell of it was that it wouldn't just come back to hurt him, it could hurt his daughter too, the one person that he'd worked to protect since the day she was born.

He had to get to Carol, explain what had happened—if she would even let him in the door after seeing those damning pictures.

* * *

><p>"Didn't see what, Daryl?" Carol asked, looking from his face to the phone he held and back, trying to understand what could be making him act this way.<p>

"Before I show them to you, you need to know that they're _not_ what they seem—I need you to trust me on that, okay?" Daryl asked, his voice soft and pleading.

Carol nodded and Daryl opened the file, all the while watching her face. Carol's frown grew deeper as he clicked through them.

"Carol?" Daryl asked, needing to hear some sort of response, trying to give her time to process what she had seen. Carol raised her eyes to his. He could tell she was keeping careful control of herself, her hands closed into fists in the cloth of her robe, working to trust him, but that the images of her boyfriend and another woman weren't exactly something she enjoyed seeing.

"I...I know her—that's Rosita Espinosa—she's in my major...we're up for the same scholarship...I was going to tell you about it tomorrow..." Carol said, her voice even but strained.

"A scholarship?" Daryl asked, sounding proud, "That's amazing—"

"What kind of scholarship?" Tyreese asked. He came forward and took the reclining chair near the couch, altering its angle so instead of being directed towards the TV it was in a position to have a conversation with them.

"A full ride...pays all tuition and fees and gives stipend for doing research with a professor." Carol explained, looking at the deputy's serious concerned face.

"So it's a big deal?" Ty asked her.

"I suppose, yes—it's for all four years." Carol said, nodding her head.

"Man, that's probably forty to sixty thousand dollars." Daryl murmured.

"And it's based on what?" Ty asked.

"Grade point, an essay and interview; recommendations from professors." Carol replied.

"So if you don't do well on these exams you're taking now—and your finals in December—that'll screw with your GPA?" Ty asked. Daryl had explained to he and Sasha earlier why he was alone at the bar last night, why Carol wasn't with him.

"So she was trying to mess with Carol's head?" Daryl asked, grimacing at Tyreese, "So she'd do bad on her tests?"

"Her buddy sent the pictures to Carol—thinking your man is screwing around on you the night before a big test; ruin the competition's chances..." Ty let his voice trail off.

"I don't understand—how could she change the time and date stamp on these?" Carol asked, looking down at the camera again, still not understanding the true significance of the photos.

Her faith in him made Daryl's throat go tight. Ruining that was the last thing in the world he wanted to do, but he couldn't lie to her.

"She _didn't."_ Daryl said softly, his voice a bitter whisper, holding his breath while she contemplated what he'd said.

Carol's frown only deepened, looking back down at the final images on the screen of Daryl and Rosita heading down the hallway to the restrooms and then back at Daryl. Realizing he was wearing the same clothes now as he was in them.

"This was _last night..."_ Carol murmured, her expression going cold, shutting down, raising her eyes to his. The hurt he saw there made Daryl expel his breath, his lungs aching.

"Yes." Daryl said, swallowing hard.

Carol handed the camera back to him, her face a blank except for those damn expressive eyes; he could see right through to her soul, the trust dimming in them as he watched, the walls going up.

"Carol, do you know what GHB is?" Tyreese asked, drawing her attention to him. She frowned at him and then looked back at Daryl with an unreadable expression.

"_The date rape drug?"_ Carol finally said, her voice tight and accusatory as she looked at him.

Daryl was breathing unevenly—did she really think he could...that he would _ever..._

"It was slipped into _Daryl's _drink last night." Tyreese told her. "These images were all taken while he was under the influence of it."

Carol looked confused, as if her mind was balking at the 180 it had just been forced to do.

"Remember what I told you when we got here? That Daryl was a _victim_ of a crime?" Tyreese said carefully, making sure Carol understood what he was saying.

Carol looked back and forth between the men, the line between her brows deepening, her mouth working, though her lips stayed tightly closed. As Daryl watched, her eyes welled up and she blindly reached out for his hands and he grasped on to hers, the phone dropping to the floor with a solid thunk.

"_She drugged you?"_ Carol gasped and took a ragged breath, the tears spilling over as she searched his face for confirmation.

Daryl nodded silently, his vulnerability naked on his face.

"We found him almost passed out in the women's room." Tyreese told her. "The drug tests will be back this afternoon, but I'm pretty certain what they'll say." and then he repeated, emphasizing the words, "Daryl's the _victim _here."

Carol nodded at what Ty was telling her, but continued to stare at Daryl. Sensing they needed to be alone, the Deputy stood and told them he'd be waiting in the hallway, and then left the room, closing the door behind him.

"I'm sorry...I shouldn't have been there." Daryl finally said, his voice unsteady. "The job—the crew—we just went in for a quick drink after work." he paused; looking down at her small hands in his,

"What I really wanted..." he stopped, bowing his head, looking at the floor and taking several shallow breaths. "_All_ I really needed..." he stopped again, unable to put into words how much he needed _her,_ raising his watercolor blue eyes to hers.

"_I'm so sorry."_ Daryl said and his head fell again as he leaned forward, as if he was surrendering to whatever judgment she deemed necessary for his actions.

Carol pulled her hands from his and he stiffened, readying for his dismissal, wholly unprepared when her hands touched the sides of his neck, pulling him forward to rest his head against her chest and shoulder, her arms going around his neck to hold him close.

"I know what _this _feels like, Daryl." Carol said softly, "To be the _victim,_" and she pressed a kiss to his temple, whispering, "_And I'm sorry this happened to you."_

Daryl had never known such acceptance, such trust and understanding. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, overcome with emotion.

"_...I love you."_ Daryl mumbled against her neck, almost too softly for her to hear.

* * *

><p>Well. I had to let you off the angst hook sooner than I intended rather than later after all the happy feels in the TWD premiere! And yes the final nuzzle in this chapter is a tribute to The Hug...and the <em>is it there or not?<em> "I love yous" some people claim they heard during it.

Daryl has come to his realization of how he really feels about Carol through some pretty disconcerting circumstances. How will she react to his quiet but heart felt declaration? There also remains the question over whether or not Merle will come clean about his part in the events and if there will be any consequences for Rosita and her crew.

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

_A series of confrontations play out as the repercussions for Merle's little prank on Daryl gone wrong continue to reverberate._

* * *

><p>"I don't know why I do the things I do. I'm a damn mystery to me." Merle said, drawing the cherry Tootsie Roll pop he'd been sucking on as a cigarette substitute back into his mouth. Times like this, times of stress or right after havin' a woman were when he missed his smokes the most. Merle grunted to himself, <em>missed havin' a woman even more than a smoke and <em>_that__ was sayin' somethin'_.

As soon as that nosy Asian kid left and Ellie had taken Sophia to her dentist appointment, Merle had summoned his henchman Allen to the house for a come to Jesus talk.

"Well, you better figure out somthin' to tell Daryl, 'coz your brother's gonna wanna beat the shit outa me he ever finds out what I done for you." Allen griped in his nasal whine.

Merle pulled hard on the sucker stick until it left his lips with a pop and then used the candy to point accusingly at the other man.

"If you hadn't a' embellished, bringin' that Latina piece in there—"

"You _wanted_ him to get fucked up!" Allen argued hotly.

"I said fucked _up_, not _fucked_ you asshole! He's in love with that lil' gal he's been seein' but he's all twisted up about it coz a' what Sophia's ma done to him. If we messed that shit up, if she don't forgive him..."

"Sasha knew..._knows_ it wasn't just drink. Shane told her how much Daryl had and it weren't enough to make him let down his guard like that." Allen said, biting on his thumb nail nervously. The female fire fighter was a ball buster, for sure, and he didn't want on her bad side any more than he did Daryl's.

"So?" Merle grunted.

"So maybe they'll blame it on the woman." Allen said hopefully, "the Latina piece."

"You better lay low for a while and hope they do." Merle said, biting down decisively, chewing his way to the center of the lollipop and staring with stone cold menace at Allen's pale sweaty face.

* * *

><p>"Time's up, put down your pencils and close your blue books." Dr. Blake's always pompous voice instructed from the front of the class room.<p>

Carol took one last look at the final paragraph of her essay and sighed. She had studied her ass off for this test. It had been as tough as she'd expected it to be and she had nailed it. Totally. However instead of smiling or punching the air in triumph she schooled her face to a barely there frown, dropping her pencil onto the desk top and watching it roll across the surface and slip to the floor, following its descent with her eyes but making no attempt to catch or retrieve it.

From across the aisle and two seats up Rosita turned her head at the sound of the pencil's sharp click drop onto the tile, looked at it down on the floor and then looked up to Carol's face. The smile that slid across her features at Carol's apparent distress and listlessness was smug.

"Pass your test booklets forward." Blake said and that drew both women's attention forward, passing up the thin blue booklets with their answers.

"Care?" Tara asked, coming over to stand next to Carol's desk, gathering up her pencil off the floor and handing it to her, looking concerned.

Carol looked up, taking back the pencil and then stood as well, sticking it in her book bag and giving Tara a wan smile and nod of thanks, heading down the aisle towards the door, brushing past Rosita who was still sitting, gossiping with her two friends and smirking at Carol.

"_Fuck off."_ Tara growled at the three as she passed, but they just smirked at her too.

"Are you okay?" Tara asked right before they got to the door, but Carol just continued walking through the opening into the hall, right into Daryl's waiting arms.

Tara looked on in confusion. Glenn had showed her the pictures that had been tweeted of Daryl's misbehavior with Rosita the previous night, but she hadn't had a chance to talk to Carol about them because she had shown up almost late, squeezing into the room at the last minute before the professor locked the door.

"How'd it go?" Daryl asked Carol, brushing a kiss to her brow. Carol rested the side of her head on Daryl's shoulder, gave a big sigh and then she looked up at him with a huge smile.

"You got a lot of nerve, Dixon," Tara said confrontationally, not understanding her friend's behavior towards the man. Had Carol not yet seen the pictures?

"Tara—don't." Carol said, holding out a placating hand, "It's not what you think."

"She still in there?" Tyreese asked, forestalling any more objections over Carol's embrace of Daryl from the younger woman.

"Yes." Carol responded, looking back towards the classroom door.

"I still think we should've arrested her _before_ the test." Ty grumbled.

"I don't want to win that way." Carol said simply.

She and Daryl had discussed it, argued about it. If Rosita's plan had been to throw her off her game, make her do poorly on Blake's test to hurt her chances at the scholarship, she hadn't succeeded. Causing a scene, disrupting the whole class by taking her into custody beforehand so Rosita missed the test would do no one any good and so Carol had argued against it.

"You're such a good person." Daryl murmured just as Rosita and her two buddies came out the classroom door.

The look on their faces was priceless. Disbelief, dismay, but then something ugly and superior settled over Rosita's features as she looked at Carol in Daryl's arms.

"Looks like someone hasn't checked her Twitter feed recently." Rosita snarked at Carol. Other students started pushing out the door behind her, looking at the group curiously, including the little blonde, Beth who gave Carol a look of pitying arrogance, holding up her phone mockingly.

"Rosita Espinosa?" Tyreese rumbled out the question and at first the woman in question ignored him until she felt the girl to her right tugging on her sleeve.

"Who wants to know?"Rosita turned her head impatiently, ready to bite his head off for interfering, but was pulled up short by the sight of the uniform.

"I'm Sheriff's Deputy Williams and I'm placing you under arrest for assault. Set your bag down and turn around, place your hands against the wall." Tyreese ordered, pointing to the hallway cement block wall and pulling out his handcuffs.

"What the _fuck_?" Rosita asked in disbelief, "Is this a joke?"

"I'm not going to ask you again Miss—hands against the wall, _now_!" Tyreese barked and she finally complied. As he cuffed her he read her the Miranda warning and she clammed up immediately. That didn't keep her friends from talking however.

"You can't do this! She didn't _do _anything!" one of the other girls cried, pointing at Daryl, "—it was all _his_ fault—he was drunk! He was all over her!"

"He wasn't drunk, he was _drugged_." Tyreese told them. "That means no consent. That's assault."

"Bullshit." Rosita scoffed, finding her voice and turning back around to face them, spitting mad, glaring at Daryl. "He knew what he was doing."

"That why you _ran_?" Daryl asked in a low dangerous tone. "When Sasha pulled you offa me?"

"She jumped me just when we were about to get busy... figured she was some jealous bitch... anyone who's had him would be ready to throw down over the chance to do it again... am I right Carol?" she taunted.

Carol just looked stoically at her, refusing to be baited. Daryl's arm tightened around her shoulder.

"Did Daryl tell you he was _drugged_? And you believed him?" Rosita laughed at Carol, "You're pathetic."

"Girl, you do not know when to shut your mouth, do you?" Tyreese asked, shaking his head at her. "We got the tox screen results back an hour ago. Daryl had high levels of GHB in his system."

Rosita's two friends and she looked at each other questioningly.

"He said you were_ wasted_..." Rosita muttered, frowning and deflating somewhat.

"_Who_ said?" Daryl asked, taking a step forward, putting Carol behind him protectively.

"Dude at the bar getting the pitchers." Rosita told him, including Tyreese in her gaze, "The weasel looking one who invited us over to the table...asked if I knew you. Said you were looking for some action..."

"_Allen."_ Daryl grimaced, sharing a look with Tyreese.

For whatever reason it looked like they had another suspect.

* * *

><p><em>Attempts to locate Allen had been unsuccessful.<em> That was the message Ty had for Daryl when he called to check in later that afternoon. No one at the Salvage business office knew of his where-abouts and in their phone conversation Merle claimed he hadn't heard from the man in weeks, the amount of time since he'd been forced into his early retirement by his illness. Something in the overly firm tone of his brother's voice when questioned hadn't set right with Daryl, but he was distracted by the need to mend some fences with Carol and didn't follow up on his feeling of unease immediately.

They had planned to get together for a family dinner the next night, Friday, but Daryl needed some alone time with Carol before then to get some things straight. He felt a weight on his chest, a fear that despite believing in what she had been told by he and Tyreese about the drug he had been given without his knowledge, there was still the fact that he had put himself in that situation in the first place. He had allowed his feelings about what had happened in his past dictate his responses to the present, and he had screwed up, _badly._

After assuring Tara and by proxy Glenn and Andrea that she was fine, Carol had willingly gone with him and Daryl had headed out of Woodbury in his pick-up for Senoia. He'd called ahead to Maguire's for take-out so it was ready when they got there. Carol had looked curiously at him when he said they weren't staying at the diner, but he knew he wanted to be alone with her, not surrounded by noisy locals and tourists.

He continued through town on Seavy Street and when he turned into Senoia State Park, one of her favorite places, he felt Carol's hands tighten on his jacket approvingly. They'd gone hiking here a couple of times and she'd wistfully wished for a big sloppy dog to accompany them on rambles around the peaceful tree filled scenery.

Daryl parked the truck, but didn't stop at one of the several wooden picnic tables located near the swing sets and in open-sided shelters. Instead he took her hand and led her down a graveled path to a secluded meadow and spread out the Navaho patterned blanket that he'd pulled from behind the pick-up's seat. He motioned for her to sit while he laid out the food and then they ate in relative silence.

Carol knew he was still dealing with the events of last night and didn't want to push him, so she resigned herself to just enjoying his company. She'd missed him this past week; she knew that he'd missed her. She hadn't been angry with him when she'd seen the pictures and heard his explanation, for which he'd been grateful and she thought had been the source of his whispered declaration of love that morning.

It hadn't exactly been how Carol had wanted to hear those words for the first time; the pictures had been jarring, even knowing that they'd been taken under duress. He had a past, a complicated one filled with many women, but she'd come to believe that things were different between them; that he'd always been truthful with her...at least that's what she _wanted_ to believe.

Carol looked over at him, sitting cross-legged across from her, downing a bottle of sweet-tea, watching his throat work, the beads of condensation of the bottle running off onto the small star tattoo on the back of his hand, down his wrist, forearm, wanting to follow its path with her tongue...

There was an innate feral quality to his beauty that was overwhelmingly attractive to her. Even now, when he was being quiet and patient, there was an energy, a life force there that practically pulsed from him. He was so much a _man, _sexually; she couldn't help but feel somewhat inexperienced and inadequate comparing herself to the other women, like Rosita, that he had been with before.

"Am I being naive here, Daryl?" Carol finally asked, setting down her plate, drawing her legs up underneath her.

"Naive?" he asked slowly, not sure what she was getting at.

"Why were you there?" she wondered aloud. He'd said it was just to hang out with his "boys," but she sensed there was more to it from the way he'd kept apologizing for it earlier.

"Stupidity." He grunted with a frown, looking away, putting the cap back on his tea and tossing it down onto the grass next to them and then resting his forearms on his knees, staring down at the patterns of the blanket.

Carol waited for him to elaborate.

"I was ...I don't know...I guess... I guess I was pissed off." Daryl murmured, looking uncomfortable.

"At me?" Carol asked. She had been the one to push away, tell him she needed space; did he resent her for that now? Was he blaming her for throwing him in another woman's path?

"At _myself_." He said vehemently, his eyes rising to hers, stormy azure seas churning over with some emotion she couldn't identify.

"Why?" Carol asked, trying to understand where this was coming from.

"I can't stop thinking about you." Daryl said with a sigh, the admission coming out all in a rush. "Just _looking _at you makes me happy. When we're together, I can't wait to hear the next words out of your mouth..." he gave her a small quirked smile, staring at her lips and then looked directly into her eyes, "You _got_ to me...in a place inside me that I thought had died..." he stopped speaking then, sounding overcome, looking back down at the blanket, pausing to clear his throat and then looking back up at her, tears starting to form, "When I'm with you I believe that place is alive and well..."

"And it scared you." Carol said softly, her mouth trembling, tilting her head at him.

Daryl stared back but then slowly nodded.

"I don't want to think I'm depending on someone else for my happiness either, Daryl." Carol told him, "It scares me too...how much you mean to me."

Daryl nodded again, this time in understanding.

"I can't make any promises, but I want to be with you...I know it won't always be easy, but I want to..." Daryl said. "I want to be with you _more_ than I'm scared...you know?"

Carol's face broke into a careful smile and then she nodded back at him in agreement, smiling wider, a happy sigh escaping her lips. She reached out her hand to him and he took it, holding it tightly, smiling back it her.

"Come're." Daryl said quietly, tugging on her hand, pushing aside the remnants of their picnic so she could slide over and sit directly in front of him. He carefully leaned forward, brushing her lips with his for a gentle kiss. He rested his forehead on hers and inhaled, breathing her in, the delicate florals of her scent so familiar and welcoming.

"I missed you." Carol whispered, raising her hand to his cheek, her thumb caressing the scruff there.

"Missed you too." Daryl murmured, leaning in for another kiss. This one more thorough, though still gentle and undemanding, letting her take the lead. When she deepened it, her right hand moving to his nape to tangle in the hair there while her left moved to rest on his chest, he knew she could feel how hard and fast his heart was beating. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, drawing her up onto his lap, continuing to kiss her as they slowly fell sideways on to the blanket.

The easy rhythm they had, the ease with which they anticipated the other's desires did nothing to lessen the growing urgency of the kisses they traded or the heat of their bodies. Hands and mouths found well remembered sweet spots, starting to move under or push aside clothes to get at them.

Then they heard someone loudly clear their throat and broke apart to see another couple dressed in hiking clothes and wearing back packs passing on the nearby path. The man gave Daryl a thumbs up, but the woman rolled her eyes and smacked him on the shoulder as they walked out of sight.

"Maybe... we can go...to the apartment?" Carol asked a bit breathlessly, realizing they weren't exactly in a place that could guarantee any privacy.

"What—you don't want me to drag you into the forest and throw you up against a tree so I can have my way with you in the moonlight?" Daryl teased.

"It's two o'clock in the afternoon and those are sticky sap laden pine trees." Carol said dryly, with great practicality, making Daryl snort at her and give her one more lingering kiss.

They quickly packed up the remnants of their lunch and started back towards the parking lot along the gravel path. As they passed through the trees and into another open meadow Daryl stopped and gave Carol's hand a slight tug.

"Wait up." Daryl requested and set down the bag he was carrying. He pulled her over to a small unremarkable dark green shrub, but when she looked more closely she saw that it was a Cherokee Rose bush.

"State flower..." Carol mused and then gave a little gasp as Daryl plucked one in full bloom, carefully removing any thorns along the stem.

"What I said this morning." Daryl said, lifting the white flower, carefully placing it behind her ear and then cradling her cheek in his hand. "I'm just gonna keep showing you..."

Carol looked up at him and smiled, covering his hand with hers.

* * *

><p><em>I took a little bit of Daryl's speech to Carol starting with "I can't stop thinking about you," from a film called <span>Playing by Heart, <span>which is based on a story called Dancing about Architecture. In it the character played by Gillian Anderson says to a would-be suitor, played by Jon Stewart (of all people!) "Talking about love is like dancing about architecture." I think she means that it's something that is better shown and felt than merely discussed, that love can't be understood fully that way. Daryl intends to show Carol, through the things he does from now on, that he loves her._

_Maguire's Café, Seavy Street and Senoia State Park are real places in Senoia, GA._


	11. Chapter 11

_Thanksgiving celebrations loom on the horizon as Carol and Daryl have a romantic reunion after their picnic._

_Sweet smut warning._

* * *

><p>11)<p>

"Thanksgiving..." Carol said as she climbed back under the covers, making Daryl hiss as she wrapped herself around him from behind, snuggling close and pressing her chilly feet against his calves.

"Not thankful for those blocks of ice ya call feet." Daryl grumped, rolling over to face her and putting his arms around her to warm her more fully. He was naked, but she was wearing his t-shirt, pulled on when she went to the bathroom so she wouldn't totally freeze. He'd chuckled at her yelp of surprise when her bare ass had hit the freezing cold toilet seat.

"You need to turn the heat up in here—it's November." Carol replied. Georgia was colder than usual this fall and people were predicting a more severe winter like last year when several hundred people had been trapped in their cars on the highways outside of Atlanta during a blizzard.

"Haven't been here for a week, usually no one's here during the day—waste of money to have the heat on very high." Daryl reasoned. It was evening; they'd spent most of the afternoon in bed together after their picnic reacquainting themselves with one another. It had been a long slow drawn out process of touches and kisses, gradually moving towards an all consuming passion that had exhausted them, waking only now as the sun was setting, the red glow splashed across the bedroom windows reflected in pinks and umbers across the walls.

"You'll have to give this place up soon, won't you?" Carol said wistfully, "Waste of money to keep it when Merle won't be coming back..."

Daryl's face went stony after his wince at the implication of her remark.

"Oh God—that's the worst thing I ever said!" Carol cried, putting her hands on his face in apology, leaning close and softly murmuring, "_I'm sorry_," alternating it with kisses to his down turned mouth until he kissed her back. Carol burrowed closer, settling against his chest.

"S'okay. You're right, he won't be. I know he won't be." Daryl said, resting his chin on the top of her head. "It's just...he's always been the tough one, feed him a hammer he'll crap put nails, you know?"

Carol felt the hitch in his breath and sensing he didn't want to dwell on the thoughts she'd unintentionally started, Carol changed the subject.

"So, a week from today..." Carol said leadingly.

"Thanksgiving," Daryl said, sounding grateful to be on to another topic.

"My father and step mother are expecting us at eleven, and I think we can skip out by one." Carol assured him.

"Okay." Daryl said in a small slightly insecure voice.

"What?"

"What the hell am I supposed to wear?" Daryl asked, "I mean is this a _suit_ thing? I know it's not a _jeans _thing."

"You are so cute." Carol grinned, pushing him back onto his back and settling in on top of him, tickling his sides and making him struggle against her.

"_Stop." _Daryl laughed, finally succeeding in grabbing her hands and holding them still

"You'll look handsome in whatever you wear." Carol purred and smiled as the tips of Daryl's ears turned red.

"_Stop." _Daryl repeated, more softly.

"I kinda like what you're wearing right now." Very deliberately she rolled her hips against his and watched his pupils start to dilate.

"Yeah?" Daryl smirked, "Maybe I should wear _this_ next Thursday."

"How did you get so comfortable with your body?" Carol asked him, curious now.

Daryl released her hands and let his settle over her hips, his thumbs teasing up the sides of the t-shirt she was wearing.

"I was a skinny kid. Nerdy...a wimp...growing up, in school. Probably woulda gotten the crap kicked outa me regular if it wasn't for Merle."

"I need to see pictures." Carol teased. "Photo albums full of sweet skinny little nerdy Daryl with his pocket protector and calculator."

"I'm never letting you near my mother again."

"Stop." Carol admonished, kissing him quickly. "So what happened?"

"I wanted to be a fire fighter, so I started working out, after high school. Couple years, a few tattoos later an' I'm-"

Carol slid down a little on his body until she could see the name tattooed over his pectoral and trailed a finger across it, silently questioning it.

"Buddy. Mentor I guess you'd say—my first year on the squad." Daryl said with a certain nostalgia. Then he gave a big sigh, "It was our first big fire, old barn out on a place outside Senoia. I was eight months on the job."

Carol's fingers stopped and she looked up at him, noting the deep sadness in his eyes.

"Oh Daryl..."

"He dragged three of us out before the ceiling collapsed on him." Daryl said in an even quiet voice. "He didn't make it." he added unnecessarily.

"_Thank you, Norman." _Carol said softly, placing a kiss on the blue letters. Without him, she wouldn't have Daryl...or Sophia...

"He was a good guy." Daryl told her, pain evident in his eyes, "Wife, two kids. I didn't get it...couldn't understand why I made it out and he didn't." The guilt he felt had stayed with him a long time and had been one of the reasons why he'd gone on for the EMT training program; it wasn't just about the intellectual challenge, it was another way he could _save_ people.

"You're every bit as good as him, every bit—there's people alive today that wouldn't be if not for you—he'd be so proud of you." Carol assured him. She knew the risks that came with his job. Daryl never talked about it, but she knew from talking to Ellie, Merle and Sophia that Daryl had been instrumental in many rescues and had even delivered babies in his work.

Daryl didn't say anything, he just nodded, blinking at her until she leaned down and kissed him. He pushed up under the t-shirt, caressing her peachy bottom with his big hands, deepening the kiss.

Carol sighed. Daryl made her feel comfortable, safe, and the way he touched her so tenderly made her feel cherished...beautiful...

"_Again?"_ Daryl whispered against her lips as his fingers traced delicately up her spine, pushing up the shirt as he went. He was hard, ready, but he took his time, as if he planned to touch every inch of her sleek form before merging their bodies once more.

Carol sat up and lifted her arms so he could strip the shirt off of her and Daryl groaned as her perfect breasts were bared to him.

"_I could just suck these sweet little rosebuds all day..."_ Daryl murmured, cupping and lifting a petite mound in each hand, rubbing his calloused thumbs back and forth over each, watching them stiffen from his attentions, watching her mouth come open in a moan of pleasure. He pulled her forward so he could close his mouth over the right first and she shivered, his moustache and beard abrading the soft flesh as his tongue lashed the erect nipple rapidly, repeatedly while he suckled there, the sensation of pulling suction and the stimulation of the tip at the same time exquisite for her.

"Oh _god._..Daryl, that's so _good..." _Carol whimpered, holding herself above him with her hands on his shoulders at first, but falling forward when what he was doing made her limp with pleasure. She giggled, realizing she was probably smothering him, but he didn't seem to care.

Daryl simply shifted them so they were laying side by side, his mouth never leaving her breast. He reached down and drew her right leg up over his hip and she felt the shaft of his cock slide along her cleft just close enough to graze her rapidly swelling clit, making her gasp. At first she thought it was a happy accident until he did it again...and again...the light bump and scrape of his hardness against her in combination with his mouth working to drive her insane. She wanted him inside her...it would be so easy to just let go...just let him...

"Daryl...condom..." Carol reminded him, her hands on his temples, fingers in his hair drawing his face up from her chest.

"Nuh-uh...Somethin else I wanna suck first..." Daryl said wickedly, "Just getting' it warmed up for me." the apples of his cheeks were flushed, his swollen lips a dark rose, his eyes dangerous and glittering. Carol wanted to remember that look, to draw and paint his face on canvas just like that, so sensuous and feral, so full of desire. He pushed her onto her back, down against the pillows and licked and kissed his way down her body.

It had taken a few times for Carol to really believe how much he enjoyed this, but she finally understood it was something that gave Daryl as much pleasure to do as it did for her to receive it. He'd tried to explain it to her, that it made him feel closer to her, how her responses excited him, knowing that he could arouse her to the point of orgasm was tremendously satisfying. That the taste of her was intoxicating to him, the silk softness of her center on his tongue and lips was another kind of kiss, an intimacy he knew no one else had ever had with her.

He also loved the fact that when he used his mouth on her she gave up all notions of decorum. Her sometimes prim shyness and reticence fell away. She let loose, encouraging him with moans and gasps of his name, screaming as she came, however many times she came. He loved how her body clamped down on his tongue or finger deep inside her, throbbing, milking it like it did his cock when it was buried in her to the hilt.

When he had first met her Daryl had to admit he'd never suspected the deeply sensual core to Carol's nature. He also knew that as his feelings for her had grown, the intensity of the emotions he felt when being with her had grown as well.

Daryl slipped on the condom as he looked down at her, the afterglow of his efforts still apparent from the sated smile on her lovely face, her blue eyes on his, happy to be here, with him, making love. As he stroked up inside her, filling her, Carol kept her eyes on his, breathing deeply, in synch, in and out, in perfect unison. Daryl leaned close, kissing her and her hands rose, holding his head to her, letting them slide to his jaw when he broke the kiss to look at her.

"Tell me again..." Carol said softly, staring deeply into his eyes.

"I love you, Carol." Daryl said, stilling his movements.

"I love you too." Carol smiled as she told him, for the first time, and his heart sang.

* * *

><p>"I still can't believe you wore a tie." Carol said, looking a little worried as she straightened it for him as they stood inside the foyer of Mrs. McCloud's house where Daryl had come to pick her up.<p>

"Is that a bad thing?" Daryl asked, perplexed. He'd asked the women on the squad and Carol's friend Glenn, who was finally speaking to him again after a week, for clothing advice for today, the Thanksgiving brunch at Carol's parents.

"No! No, you look amazing—seriously—you look like you walked out of the pages of GQ or something." Carol told him, looking him up and down appreciatively, "I just didn't think you were a _tie_ kind of guy..."

The fine check of the navy hound's-tooth suit and the blue chambray dress shirt went well with the navy woven knit tie, all of which matched and set off his cerulean eyes to perfection. The blue suede boots were a funky touch, borrowed from Glenn, as were the belt and tie. The Ray-Bans were Daryl's, at present hung at the v of the suit vest.

"You look real pretty." Daryl returned the compliment, giving her the once over. He knew Carol was nervous by her choice of attire, an ultra conservative calf-length dress in a mousey brown that did nothing for either her figure or coloring.

"No, I don't. I look _respectable_; as respectable as a divorcee can look to my father." Carol sighed. "I might as well be wearing a sack cloth and ashes." She frowned and flipped the skirt of the ugly dress up and let it fall listlessly down again. "My father picked it out." It had been a Christmas gift the year before and was similar to the style her father was most used to seeing her in, like most of the clothes she'd worn while married to Ed.

He'd never let her wear nice things.

"_Fuck respectable."_ Daryl said, grinning fiercely and taking her hand to head up stairs, "We're going to find you something in your closet that makes you feel _powerful_."

* * *

><p>"Well hello Carol dear...well, my...don't you look..." Carol's father looked confused when she walked into the foyer of the large impressive Mason family home holding hands with Daryl.<p>

They'd been relieved of their overcoats by the maid and Mr. Mason saw that instead of the dress he had given her, Carol had chosen to wear a soft blue cashmere sweater set and tailored knee length navy pencil skirt and heels, showing of her long elegant legs. Her hair was tousled, pulled back off her face with two small silver combs, one behind each ear, and silver teardrops hung from her lobes. Several delicate silver chains of various lengths graced her neckline above the sweater's collar. She looked classy but a bit modern and a perfect match to Daryl's style.

"Beautiful. You look beautiful, dear." Patricia, Carol's step mother came forward, smoothly coming forward to place her hands on Carol's upper arms and give her a two cheek continental kiss of greeting. Then the cool looking blonde stepped back and eyed Daryl speculatively before she held out her hand to him. She was a few years younger than Carol's father, and had that well maintained look that very wealthy women seemed to wear like a second skin. Her conservative chocolate brown suit with mocha piping was designer, but very understated, almost like a Dior from the 1950s, possibly vintage. Her jewelry was small earrings pearl post and a rope of chocolate pearls.

"And this must be your young man," Patricia continued, smiling up at Daryl.

"This is Daryl, Daryl Dixon." Carol said nervously. "Daryl, this is my step mother, Patricia." Daryl had to release Carol's hand to take Patricia's, but he did it smoothly, with a pleasant smile back at her.

"Pleased to meet you." Daryl said, nodding and adding with a look that encompassed both his hosts, "Thank you for inviting me to your home."

"We see Carol so much less often than we would like—if it takes an invitation to you to get her here you're welcome back any time, Mr. Dixon." Patricia said with a smile and nod at Carol.

"Benjamin Mason." Carol's father announced himself curtly before Carol could complete the introductions, holding out his hand and taking Daryl's measure as they shook hands firmly.

"Sir." Daryl said formally. He knew men like this, had worked for them. Wealth brought privilege and a sense of entitlement and Carol's father oozed it from the top of his mane of red hair shot through with silver all the way down his grey pinstripe suit to his wingtips.

Daryl was more impressed than ever that Carol had the fortitude to walk away from this kind of life and make her own way in the world. He and Carol had chuckled when the parking valet had looked askance at the pick-up they drove up in, but it was either that or the motorcycle, which her skirt made impossible. He knew he was out of his depth here, but could handle it with Carol at his side.

Daryl handed over the boxed bottle of good single malt he'd brought as a host gift after consultation with Carol. Ben accepted it with thanks, holding it up to examine the label and raising an eyebrow when he saw it was Glennfidditch.

"You seem to enjoy the _finer _things, young man."Mason said in a slightly chiding tone making Carol purse her lips at him. The innuendo was plain; Carol was too "fine" for the likes of a Dixon.

"Hello daddy." Carol said in a slightly exasperated voice, putting her hand on his forearm to hold him still while she leaned up to kiss his cheek. He seemed a bit surprised at the intimacy, almost embarrassed, holding himself stiffly but allowing it. Patricia smiled at the two of them and shook her head and then laced her arm through Daryl's.

"Let me introduce you to our other guests, Daryl, while Ben and Carol have a little chat." the older woman said. Daryl frowned over at Carol but she smiled tightly and nodded her assent and Patricia continued leading him away into the great room.

"So that's your fireman." Benjamin said, walking over to the table by the window to place the bottle of Scotch onto it. He looked at the bottle and repeated a variation on his earlier remark to Daryl. "Yes, he has expensive taste in Scotch...and women..."

Carol frowned, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult to her...

"What do you want to talk to me about, daddy?"

"This man, this fireman—how much do you know about him?"

"He's an EMT. He helps people for a living. He's a good man."

"And you met at University?"

"At the University, yes...in art class...he designs and makes stained glass windows—he's an artist too." Carol fudged. All of that was true, just not the _whole_ truth.

"His brother owns Dixon Salvage? I've heard of them—good business." Ben nodded.

"Merle, yes." Carol said with an inward sigh. Merle had been behaving oddly over the last week; they'd all noticed it, even Sophia. He was bending over backwards to be _nice_, which for Merle was just _wrong._

"Like being an undertaker—there will always be old properties that need to be torn down to make way for the new." Ben agreed with false amiability. "Daryl have a piece of that?"

"What are you doing, dad?" Carol asked, her tone skeptical.

"What?" Ben asked with a slightly hurt innocent look.

"Why are you pretending you haven't already had Daryl investigated?" Carol asked, pinning him down. He was able to hold her eyes only for a moment before looking away, out the window.

"You're my only child, Carol...one who has already suffered because I didn't know what sort of man you married until it was too late." Ben said gruffly.

Carol looked at her father with surprise, shocked that he'd admit to such a failing.

"Daryl is a good man, daddy. He's _nothing_ like Ed." Carol said adamantly.

"He does a dangerous job for not much money and has heavy personal responsibilities: raising a child without her mother while also caring for a sick brother." Ben said bluntly.

"Like I said, he's nothing like Ed." Carol retorted.

Her father slowly turned back to face her, a skeptical look on his face.

"He faces up to his responsibilities..." Carol defended Daryl to him.

"He takes off his clothes for money." Ben sneered, playing what he thought was his trump card.

"He's an _artist's_ model not a Chippendale's dancer, for God's sake!" Carol said incredulously.

"You want the list of all the women he's been with? It's quite extensive I promise you." Ben said smugly, but when Carol still didn't waver he moved closer, and his body language became more intimidating, looming over her, "What will it take to convince you that he's _bad news_ Carol Ann?"

"I'm _with_ Daryl now, dad." Carol said with quiet determination. "He's already told me everything you've had your detectives dig up on him. I trust him...and I'm in love with him."

"Don't be naive, Carol Ann, there's only one thing a man like that wants from a girl like you and from the whorish way you're dressed you must be giving it to him. You'll soon be just another name on my detective's fact sheet of women he's screwed and left behind." Benjamin Mason hissed and his face went even redder as he tried to take hold of Carol's arm, but she stepped back out of his reach, tired of his paternalistic, insulting and condescending attitude.

The doorbell rang, interrupting her rebuttal to his accusations against Daryl. A well-dressed older couple, about her father's age, entered just as Daryl came back into the foyer looking concerned, trailed by Patricia.

The female half of the new arrivals grabbed hold of her husband's arm and seemed to stumble when she saw Daryl and in return he stopped in his tracks and went pale.

"Daryl? What's wrong?" Carol asked, moving to his side.

"Ben, you want to tell me why the son of a bitch who got our teenage daughter pregnant is welcome here in your home?" the man fumed at Carol's father, who was smiling smugly, while stabbing his finger in the air, pointing at Daryl, whose hand tightened painfully on Carol's as he looked Sophia's grandfather, Philomena's father, in the eye.

* * *

><p><em>Cliff hanger! I know, I know, but I have already started on the next chapter, have no fear!<em>

_Thanks for reading!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Thanksgiving Day continues._

**_Serious angst warning._**

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><p>12)<p>

The older man's hostile words against him hung in the air as Daryl looked back at the couple he hadn't seen since before Sophia had been born, Bill and Margaret "Peg" Peterson...since the day he had helped Philomena move her things out of their home and in to his mother's when they had cut her off after learning of the pregnancy.

"Since I was also a teenager at the time and you as good as disowned Philomena and your own grandchild, Bill, I don't see that you have a lot of room to cast stones here." Daryl said evenly, standing his ground.

Carol took Daryl's hand in solidarity, glaring at her father, disgusted with his manipulative head games.

"I'm sorry that my father decided to blind side you all." Carol said, encompassing both Daryl and Sophia's grandparents in her apologetic look. Then she looked over at Patricia who looked stricken, obviously not in on her husband's nasty surprise.

"I think we'll be leaving now." Daryl said with great dignity.

"Carol, I'm so sorry—" Patricia began, but her husband held up his hand to silence her.

"You're still buying his version of events? Even with that poor girl's parents standing right in front of you?" Ben asked Carol pointedly, "I just want what's best for you, Carol!"

Ignoring her father, Carol and Daryl started towards the front hall door for their coats.

"How is she, Daryl?" the small strawberry blonde woman asked with longing, stepping away from her husband and towards Daryl, "How is Sophia?"

"Margaret!" Bill tried pulling her back but she shook off his grip. Daryl stopped in front of the petite woman, so much like Phil, so much like Sophia it made his heart hurt.

"You've always been welcome to come see her, Peg." Daryl said gently. "Any time."

"I...I want to...I do..." Peg said, tears filling her eyes.

Carol felt heartsick as well. It was clear that the woman was torn, wanting to stay in solidarity with her husband, but desperate for news about the grandchild she had never met.

"Margaret, please..." Bill said, now sounding more concerned than angry, not wanting his wife to be upset.

Daryl pulled out his wallet and opened it to the clear picture sleeves inside. He removed the entire thing, stopping only to remove a single picture, one of Carol and him that Glenn had taken. He put that one back in the wallet and handed the rest of them, all of Sophia from the day he'd brought her home until this year's school portrait, to her grandmother.

Peg took them, holding them like one of the delicate breakable porcelain figurines that well-to-do ladies liked to collect, slowly turning the small plastic pages, looking down at the precious face of her only grandchild.

"We're having dinner at two o'clock today at my place, here." Daryl told them, also handing her one of the business cards for his stained glass studio. "You're both welcome. Soph would love to meet you." He replaced his wallet in his back pocket and nodded at them.

Carol touched his elbow in support and he held out his hand for her to take which she did without hesitation. He drew her forward next to him.

"This is Carol...my Carol—she's...she's very special to me and Sophia..._important_ to us." Daryl said carefully.

"I can see that, Daryl. I'm happy for you, happy that you both have someone like her in your lives." Peg said sincerely, taking Carol's hand.

"I hope you come...to dinner today." Carol said, wanting Sophia to have a chance to meet her other grandparents, for them to mend fences.

Peg looked uncertain, glancing back over her shoulder at her husband, who looked frustrated with the turn of events, his face stormy.

"I'll try. I will. Thank you both." she finally said, stepping back as she released Carol's hand.

Carol gave Daryl a quick reassuring smile and he returned a tiny corner quirk of his mouth grin and nodded.

"I think we'll be going now." Carol said, holding her head up high and lacing her arm through Daryl's. They turned as one to face Patricia.

"I'm sorry we won't be staying for brunch, Patricia, it smells wonderful." Daryl said in a kind voice and Carol's stepmother gave him an understanding little nod before glancing at her husband and then looking back at the young couple.

"It was pleasure meeting you Daryl," Patricia returned softly, "I hope that you and Car—"

"If you leave with him Carol, don't bother to come back." Ben interjected coldly.

"Benjamin!" Patricia cried, aghast, "She's your _daughter."_

"That's right, she's _my _daughter, so keep your opinions to yourself or you can join her." Mason hissed at his wife who looked stricken but subsided in confusion.

"The déjà vu is excruciating, isn't it Dixon?" Bill said pointedly, "Being the cause of yet another daughter's break with her family," his voice rose as he stepped closer to Carol, "Don't be a fool, girl, listen to your father!"

Daryl stepped forward and put his arm out in front of Carol, blocking Peterson from coming any closer.

"Back off, Bill." Daryl cautioned quietly, not wanting to inflame the situation further, but unwilling to see Carol threatened.

"I'm sorry Mr. Peterson." Carol said from behind and to the side of Daryl, "I'm sorry that your small minded inability to support your own child in her time of need has kept you from your daughter and granddaughter for eight years, but you can't lay everything that happened at Daryl's doorstep. It takes two people to make a child, and unless you're accusing Daryl of something else, you need to just back off."

"_What_ did you say to me?" Peterson said, his temper getting the best of him. He tried to push around Daryl to get closer to Carol but Daryl held his ground, refusing to move aside.

"Bill—don't!" his wife cried as Peterson grabbed on to Daryl's arm, struggling with him.

Daryl remained as passive as he could, but felt he was protecting Carol so he couldn't just step out of the way. Suddenly Mr. Peterson just _stopped_ and his hand went to his head. He had an odd look of confused surprise on his face and then he just crumpled to the ground.

"_Bill!"_ Daryl exclaimed and crouched to catch him on his way down.

"Oh my God, do something!" Peg cried, running forward and falling to her knees next to her husband.

"Call 911!" Daryl said as he whipped off his suit jacket, quickly rolling it to support the older man's neck and knelt down beside Peterson, feeling for a carotid pulse in his neck and then loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar to ease his airway.

Carol whipped out her phone and started dialing.

"Does he have a heart condition?" Daryl asked Peg. "Is he on any medication?"

"No—I don't—I don't know!" Peg said, totally panicked, hanging on tightly to her husband's arm and staring up at Daryl fearfully.

"Ange..._angina_..." Bill wheezed.

Daryl rifled the downed man's pockets for his keys, hoping that like most angina patients, he carried a small vial of nitroglycerin pills attached to his key chain. He huffed out a sigh of relief when he found the small silver cylinder and popped out the small white pill.

"Open-put this under your tongue." Daryl instructed Peterson and he slowly opened his mouth, grimacing as he did so.

"Squad is on its way—what else can I do?" Carol asked, thrusting her phone in her pocket and coming closer.

"In the truck behind the seat—get my med kit." he asked her and she took off at a run for the front door. Daryl looked up at Patricia.

"I met a Dr. Grey in there." he said, indicating the great room with a toss of his head, "What kind of a doctor is he?"

"A Ph.D." Patricia said, sounding a bit flustered. "Classics."

Daryl grunted out a disappointed sigh, checking Peterson's pulse rate against his watch.

"You know what you're doing?" Ben asked skeptically. He had stayed back, watching Daryl work, impressed in spite of himself at how capably he was handling the emergency.

"This is what I do." Daryl said evenly, his gaze remaining on his patient, worried at how the left side of his face seemed to be drooping now, tears flowing from that eye and not the other, his mouth curling down ward on that side.

Carol returned with a backpack marked with a red cross on a white field and knelt next to Daryl. Hovering behind her was the parking valet, a concerned looking young African American kid wearing dark slacks, a white shirt and burnt orange vest.

"I need you to step back now, Peg." Daryl said commandingly and the small woman looked angry until she saw the determined look in Daryl's eyes and then she released her husband's arm and stood. Patricia came and put an arm around her shoulders in comfort.

"What's wrong?" Carol asked, leaning closer to Daryl as he unzipped and rifled through the bag.

"I think he threw a clot." Daryl said in a low voice, "Stroke..." He pulled out a stethoscope which he put on and used to listen to Peterson's heart. Next he used a blood pressure cuff and took readings while everyone around then watched with varying degrees of concern.

"Oh God..." Carol murmured, her hand going to her mouth.

Daryl pulled out his phone and pressed a one touch dial.

"Hold this up near me—it's on speaker." he ordered Carol and she took it from him.

"Noah, go out front and direct the rescue squad in here when it arrives." Mason ordered the young valet. Instead of immediately leaving, the kid looked to Daryl for confirmation. Daryl nodded curtly and Noah nodded and headed back towards the street.

"This is Dixon, EMT Squad two, Woodbury, what's the ETA on the rig you just dispatched to the Hills Estates? Who's on call? Jenner? Okay, victim is male, 50s, Caucasian; history of angina, administered nitro, heart rate is..."

While he rattled off the numbers for the readings he'd just taken Carol looked up at her father, who was watching Daryl with a narrow-eyed skepticism, his hands crossed over his chest, his mouth set in a firm downward line.

"We'll need a stroke eval. team standing by, preliminary NIHSS assessment for t-PA protocol; onset was approximately five minutes ago." Daryl told the Doctor and then looked down to Peterson.

"_Darrrull..._" the older man growled, his eyes frantic. He understood what was happening to him and he was obviously afraid. Daryl gently gripped Peterson's shoulder and gave him an encouraging small smile.

"That's right—now try to grip my hand—and can you tell me _your_ name?" Daryl asked. Peterson could squeeze with the right, but not the left, panicking him. He started to fling his right arm around on the floor beside him, stopping when his fingers came into contact with something that his wife had dropped in her rush to his side. He drew the plastic folder of photos up into Daryl's sight line and looked at him pleadingly.

"_Soooo..."_ he tried, grimacing with frustration when he couldn't say what he wanted.

"Sophia." Daryl said gently, trying to finish the thought for him, but Bill shook his head to the right, looking lost.

"_So...sooo-ree...sorry..."_ Peterson said, and then he closed his eyes tightly in a grimace of pain.

* * *

><p>"I'm not sure Ellie—we're waiting to see the test results." Carol told Daryl's mom on the phone as she sat in the hospital waiting room. "They used that special treatment on him—t-PA? That's right. Yes, within the hour. Daryl was amazing... no, I told you, I'm glad you went ahead and ate. Don't wait dessert on us anymore. I think we're going to stick around here for a bit."<p>

It was almost seven o'clock. Daryl was in with Peg and the doctors by her request, going over Bill's prognosis. She really had no one else. It seemed that Bill had been keeping his medical problems from her for the last couple of years under the guise of "protecting" her. Keeping the little woman sheltered seemed to be a theme in that family.

"Tell Sophia we'll be there in time to finish the next chapter of _Goblet of Fire._" Carol said. "And tell Glenn to leave me some pumpkin pie." Both Glenn and Tara had been invited to Daryl's for dinner, neither able to make the trip home to Michigan and Detroit respectively to have the holiday with their families.

As Carol hung up the phone she noticed a young woman striding down the hallway looking upset but determined. She wore an ass hugging, above the knee faded and patched denim skirt that showed off long legs in black and white patterned tights and calf hugging black leather boots which matched her short black leather biker jacket worn over a black Henley. On her head was a black beret that was slightly too big and drooped over her right eye.

"No duty nurse? Where the hell is everyone in this fucking place?" she bit out, finding no one at the nurse's station across from the waiting room, leaning on the counter to look down the hallway.

"She just went to refill the coffee pot," Carol volunteered, well acquainted with the hourly routine from sitting there for most of the last seven or eight hours. "She'll be back in a few minutes."

The young woman swiveled her head around to look at Carol, her angry blue eyes suspicious.

"You work here?" the girl demanded, coming across the hall and into the open area of the waiting room. Carol was struck by the young woman's delicate elfin features, like some furious fairy stalking forward.

"No. Just been waiting awhile." Carol shrugged, keeping her tone even, conciliatory.

The girl huffed out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm sorry—I'm being a bitch—but all they would tell me downstairs was that he was on the intensive care unit and no one will pick up their damn phones when I try to call and I don't even really know why I came except she sounded so scared and lost and I—"

Just then Daryl rounded the corner into the waiting room and Carol smiled at him, thinking he could perhaps help the newcomer get some information. As she formed the start of his name, the other woman cried it out and flung herself into his arms.

"_Daryl!"_

The force of embrace dislodged her beret, which drifted to the floor and Carol saw the long mane of silken strawberry blonde hair tumble out around her shoulders, spreading itself over Daryl's chest and neck as she held him close, like roots in search of fertile ground. Her fingers dug into the blue cloth of his vest, clinging to him tightly, and standing on her toes so she could press her face into his neck.

Carol felt frozen in place, the cold grabbing on to her heart as tightly as the woman was holding on to Daryl. She watched as Daryl pulled back, looking down at the blonde with a mix of wonder and confusion. The young woman raised her hand to Daryl's cheek, her tears running over, and Carol turned away from the intimacy of the look they exchanged, looking at the floor, at anywhere else but at Daryl and the mother of his child, the woman he'd loved so intensely that it had almost broken him.

"Is he...?" she asked fearfully.

"He's alive, Phil." Daryl said reassuringly, closing his hand over hers, "I'll take you to him and your mom."

"Oh thank God." Philomena said all in a rush, sagging back against him, resting her head on his chest and breaking down, her sobs shaking her whole lithe form as she twined her arms round his torso.

Daryl held her, making soothing noises, but then his head came up and his eyes rose to meet Carol's, worried, begging for her understanding.

Carol gave him her best look of controlled calm, nodding with a slight quick smile of acceptance to show that she knew who and what this woman was to him and why she was here, all the while wondering if what she'd thought was her first real chance at having someone to love and be loved in return; to have a family...wondering if that chance actually belonged to someone _else _entirely.

* * *

><p>We hate to see Carol doubting herself, but it's understandable considering her background. Daryl may have some work to do to convince her that his feelings for her aren't going to vanish because his ex has returned. There's also the possibility that Carol might want to just step aside so Sophia can have both her mother and father in her life.<p>

Thanks for reading! More to come.


	13. Chapter 13

_After an introduction at the hospital, some important truths come to light as Carol and Daryl meet up with friends and family the day after Thanksgiving, also known in the USA as "Black Friday."_

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><p>13)<p>

"Phil, there's someone I'd like you to meet." Daryl said very firmly, pulling her arms from around his body. He didn't like the deliberately blanked look on Carol's face, the uncertainty in her eyes she couldn't quite hide, the way her hands were clenched into fists on her pretty blue skirt.

"Meet?" Philomena released him and wiped at her eyes with a ragged mascara stained Kleenex she pulled from her jacket pocket, sniffing delicately as she looked up at him in confusion.

Daryl took a step towards Carol and held out his hand to her. She looked slightly panicked, as if she would prefer to remain on the couch or was contemplating bolting from the room altogether, but instead took a deep breath and smoothly stood, straightening her skirt and plastering a smile onto her trembling lips. She took Daryl's hand and let him draw her forward to stand in front of Phil.

Daryl hadn't realized the difference in the women's height before—both were petite, but Carol was at least two inches shorter, in part because of the high heels on Philomena's boots. They had similar bone structure as well, high cheekbones, small turned up noses, and blue eyes, but Carol's were warmer somehow, less calculating as she surveyed the other woman.

"Philomena, this is my girlfriend, Carol Mason." Daryl said with a warm smile as he looked at Carol. "She's been here all day helping... with your mom..."

Phil looked surprised, almost dismayed, but recovered quickly, her smile as plastered on as Carol's. She reached out her hand, realizing at the last second that she still had the damp Kleenex in it and quickly transferred it to the other.

"I'm a wreck..." Phil said with a small self-deprecating noise. "Thank you for being here." She continued to shake Carol's hand absently. "Dealing with my mother is never simple. At least you didn't have to put up with my father..." but then she released Carol's hand and her voice trailed off as she realized what she'd said, her face crumpling again.

Carol couldn't help sympathizing—she of all people knew how awful dealing with a difficult parent could be, but she also knew she'd be devastated if anything like this had happened to her own father.

"You should go see him now—Daryl will take you." Carol reached out and touched Phil's shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. Phil nodded, wiping at her eyes again, and Daryl gave Carol a grateful nod. Philomena stepped slightly away, working to compose herself before she saw her parents, picking up her beret from where it had fallen on the floor and stuffing it in her large hobo bag style purse.

"You doin' okay?" Daryl asked Carol while Phil was occupied, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at her and she nodded yes. "I'll be back." he told her, then took a swift step forward and kissed her quickly but soundly. "You'll be here?" he asked, sounding unsure.

"I'll be here." Carol said, but gave him a worrisome lopsided half smile. Daryl knew that look. He hated that look. That was the same look she'd given him when she'd told him she needed more space, the same look that kept him up at night in the week they'd been apart wondering if she'd come to her senses and realize he didn't deserve her...

"Do me a favor?" Daryl asked, holding her hands, knowing he was pushing it, but wanting to somehow show her how important she was to him; how _much_ more important than the woman he hadn't seen since she'd abandoned him and her own daughter years ago.

"Sure." Carol replied evenly, seeing Phil's look of impatience over his shoulder as she waited in the doorway for him.

"Call Sophia?" Daryl asked, "It's close to her bedtime and she was really looking forward to you being there today; she'll be missing you."

Carol winced slightly, knowing that the mention of Sophia's name was a jab at Phil, unsure why he had done it; especially in a way that indicated that Carol was someone to whom Sophia was close.

"Of course." Carol said, her voice a bit strained, and Daryl squeezed her hands before releasing them, backing towards the door where Philomena stood, her face a mask of studied indifference, but Daryl could see her eyes dart to Carol, wondering why this woman had his child on speed dial...

Before Daryl made it too far down the hallway, they were interrupted by one of the hospital paper pushers who needed information from Daryl as the first responder at the scene for their insurance forms. Unwilling to face her mother alone while he was gone, Phil drifted back to just outside the side of the waiting room door where she could overhear Carol's side of the conversation with Sophia.

"_I know, honey, but daddy and I will be home soon. Yes. The man is in the hospital now—he's...he's someone daddy used to know who was at my daddy's party. Are you and Kaylee having fun? Yes, I heard that. What kind is he? Oh, they're very bouncy ones, aren't they? I think your daddy's more likely to agree to a cat, Soph. He did? Let me talk to him." _Carol's voice became a bit strident then,_ "Glenn? You cannot just promise a little girl to get her a puppy or kitten! What's wrong with you? Well, Tara's right, you are a dumbass!"_

"Phil?" Daryl said from behind, startling her. Philomena turned around quickly and started walking down the hall away from the waiting room and Daryl had no choice but to follow her.

"So how long have you two been together? You and this Carol person?" Phil asked Daryl in a brittle voice, not looking at him as they hurried down the corridor.

"Is that any business of yours?" Daryl responded curtly, doing his best to at least remain civil.

"_Daryl..."_ Philomena said, putting her hand on his arm to halt his ground eating strides. She gazed up into his eyes pleadingly, eyes moist, lips trembling; the picture of wounded fragility,_ "I'm sorry..."_

"Yeah, well that's about eight years and a whole lot of I don't give a shit too late." Daryl sighed.

Phil dropped her hand from his arm, crossing her arms in front of her chest uncomfortably.

"We're going to have to talk about her sometime Daryl...our daughter." she said quietly, reaching up with her right hand to brush at her tears.

Daryl's face was an excellent imitation of granite as he turned and started back down the hall way ahead of her.

"Your father's room is this way." he intoned.

* * *

><p>"<em>She's<em> Sophia's mother." Carol said, tired of arguing, tired of worrying about something over which she had no control.

Merle had been at her off and on for information about what had gone down at the hospital with Phil and her parents since she and Daryl had returned to the house last night. Ellie had an early shift and had asked Carol if she could check on Merle in the morning. It was after breakfast and Daryl was playing with Sophia, who was still on a bit of a high from all of the company yesterday.

"You done more for that girl since you knowed her than that prancin' pony of a diva what popped her out done in her whole life." Merle snorted, frustrated, slamming down the mug of herbal tea she'd brought him, the hot liquid sloshing over the sides.

"I _love _Sophia, which goes without saying, but I'm _not_ her mother." Carol said, grabbing a roll of paper towels on the cart by the door and ripping off several sheets to soak up the mess he'd made and coming closer to wipe it up.

"You could be—ain't that hard—just marry her daddy!" Merle growled, grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her down to sit on the bed next to him. He'd worked hard at getting her to trust him again, going out of his way to be nice to her, to prove that he was harmless, apologizing over and over again for having hurt her with his ill timed and ill conceived remarks about "sharing her" with Daryl. They'd reached a détente in their relationship; she did care about him, he knew that, if only as an extension of her love of Daryl and Sophia.

"Merle—Sophia deserves to get to know the rest of her family—her other grandparents, her mother." Carol said, ignoring what she saw as his ridiculous suggestion about marrying his brother.

Mrs. Peterson was coming for supper tonight, a sort of make-up Thanksgiving on the day after for those who had spent the holiday at the hospital instead of sharing the meal. Mr. Peterson was still in the Intensive Care, but in stable condition, and the doctors insisted that his wife and daughter needed to go home and rest; that a constant vigil was unnecessary.

When Daryl had broached the subject of a dinner as an opportunity for a low key first meeting between her and Sophia, Peg was enthusiastic. He hadn't asked Phil however...

Merle much less enthusiastic about the way the Petersons had crashed back into all their lives. He knew Carol felt guilty about the fact that it was her father who had caused this all and had tried to reassure her, as had Daryl and Ellie that she borne none of the blame. Philomena was bound to turn up at some point and as far as Merle was concerned it was better now, when Daryl had a good thing going with Carol than a few years ago when he'd have been tempted to go crawling back to her.

He knew how fucked up baby brother's head had gotten last time the ballerina bitch had gotten into it. Carol was by far the better choice for Daryl; it was as plain as the nose on his face, but he worried Carol'd think that reuniting a "family unit" or some such shit meant more than what he knew was between them. Inviting the grandmother was the first step on the slippery slope to Phil worming her way back into all their lives.

"You're staying for supper, right? Not gonna run away, are you, mouse?" Merle taunted her, hoping to get her dander up.

Carol didn't reply, instead picking up the touch thermometer from his nightstand and swiping it across his forehead. She frowned as she noted the reading.

"That ain't no answer." Merle grumbled, ducking back and scowling at her.

"Your temp is up a bit—how do you feel?"Carol asked, changing the subject, her voice full of concern, putting the back of her hand on his brow. "Did you keep anything down from breakfast?"

"You ain't _my _momma neither, sis!" Merle said, looking into her eyes. "You're stayin' for supper." he insisted.

"I don't want to be in the way." Carol murmured. "I'll get you some dry toast." she started to stand but he refused to release her arm.

"You still pissed at him about that mess at the bar other night?" Merle asked quickly, his guilt forcing the words out of him, looking for any way to keep her from leaving. Daryl needed her here as support for whatever mind-fuckery Philomena's mama might try on him.

Something in the tone of his voice made her sit back down and frown at him.

"That wasn't his fault, I know that." Carol said. She'd been upset when they couldn't tie Rosita to the drugs and had to release her after a short investigation. The other suspect, Allen, seemed to have skipped town, leaving a message on the Dixon Salvage answering machine claiming he had a family emergency to attend to back in Macon. The King County Sherriff's department didn't have the resources to try and track him down so until he chose to return to Woodbury, not much else could be done.

"Sure as hell wasn't." Merle said adamantly. "That boy is straight up crazy about you. If you think he'd throw that all away..." his voice trailed off watching her line of sight out the bedroom door where, to the little girl's delight, Daryl was giving Sophia a piggy back ride, up and down the hall, bucking a little to imitate a horse, complete with whinnying and snorting.

"He'd crazy about his _daughter_...wants what's best for her..." Carol said quietly. She'd known that from the night they'd met.

"Hey—_Carol_—look at me." Merle said, tugging on her arm again, sounding pissed off, "_You're_ what's best for her—for _both _of them." his voice grew deadly quiet, "Not some _bitch_ couldn't even stick around long enough to name her own child!"

He stared her down, challenging her until she had to look away.

"I have to go, Merle—I'm meeting Glenn and Tara for lunch." Carol finally said, asking to be released.

"But you'll be back for dinner." Merle said, making it sound like an order, flinging his free hand around for emphasis, "You ain't leaving me alone with that uppity Peterson woman—god knows what I might say to her—abandonin' that sweet child all this time,_ Christ on a cracker_."

Carol shook her head at him, but had to smile at his exaggerated facial expressions and gestures.

"Promise me, sis—you'll be back for supper." Merle said, this time with the utmost sincerity he could muster, staring her down until she finally shook her head in silent agreement. "Give ol' Merle a hug then—scout's honor—I'll only cop a _little_ feel."

Carol let him pull her into an embrace, rolling her eyes when his hands started to wander south from her waist and pushing back against his chest to get him to release her, which he did immediately.

"Like you were ever a _scout_, Handy McHanderson." Carol admonished dryly.

"Wouldn't respect me if'n I didn't try." Merle chuckled, glad to see a little of her sassy sense of humor return.

"You tryin' to make time with my girl again, asshole?" Daryl's laconic voice sounded from the doorway where he leaned, looking in at them. Carol turned back towards him, giving him a longing once over. Barefoot, he wore faded jeans and an untucked sleeveless Grateful Dead t-shirt that stretched tightly across his chest, dressed as casually today as he'd been formal in his suit the day before. Whatever he wore, Carol realized, he wore it well, his physical grace and fit form lending style to the outfit.

He was alone, Sophia having abandoned her steed. The girl had been especially clingy towards them ever since they'd gotten home last night, insisting that she be allowed to sleep in Daryl's bed with he and Carol after story time. They were all exhausted from the events of the day and it was easier to allow it than to fight her on it, but as a consequence she and Daryl hadn't really had any time alone to discuss what had happened at her parents and the hospital.

"You sure now, _this_ lil' gal is the one you want?" Merle said, teasing, but with an undertone of stone cold seriousness. Carol's cheeks flamed and she stood quickly, embarrassed that Merle had phrased it so baldly.

"Don't think I've ever been surer of anything in my life." A slow soft smile spread across Daryl's handsome face, his tired eyes growing sparkling and warm. "You got a minute to talk before your posse arrives for lunch?" he asked Carol.

Carol gave him a shy smile and nodded yes.

"I'll have Sophia bring you some toast." Carol told Merle and he nodded in thanks. As she backed away from his bed she inadvertently knocked into his nightstand which was covered with at least two dozen childproof capped orange, green, white and blue prescription bottles of various sizes and shapes, sending them all flying.

"_Grace in action." _Carol muttered in self deprecation and swiftly knelt to start picking them up, joined by Daryl.

"Stop!" Merle yelled, furious, "What the fuck are you doin'? Leave 'em be!" Too weak to join them on the floor, he kicked out at them ineffectually, for some reason in a panic.

"Can't leave them here—trip over them!" Daryl grumped back; scooping up the bottles one by one and putting them back up on the nightstand tray.

Suddenly beside him Carol gave a small cry and sat down hard on the floor.

"_Oh my god."_ Carol said, staring at the white bottle she held in her hand.

"Hide in plain sight." Merle said quietly, lowering his head to his open hand. "Usually works like a charm...unless some clumsy ass woman screws everything up."

"What?" Daryl asked and Carol handed him the bottle, labeled _Rohypnol, 1MG, __Flunitrazepam, 500 capsules._ His eyes rose to his brother's and Merle looked resigned, sad.

"Weren't supposed to go down like it did," Merle said, his voice sounding rusty, hoarse.

Daryl rose up in one powerful lithe motion and was on Merle, grabbing a hold of his brother's pajama shirt with one hand and shoving the pill bottle in his face with the other, seething. Carol jumped up, following him over to the bed.

"What the fuck did you _do_, Merle?" Daryl yelled, shaking with barely suppressed fury.

"Daryl, _stop_." Carol said quietly but emphatically, laying her hand on his shoulder. "He's _sick_..."

"Allen fucked it all up—draggin' in that woman—weren't supposed to go down like that..." Merle repeated, knowing it was no defense.

Disgusted, Daryl released him, but kept his fist wrapped around the big white bottle so tightly Carol was afraid it would explode. He stepped back, a look of disbelief and disgust on his face, his body angled into Carol's shoulder, needing the contact with her to stay in control.

"You gave the pills to Allen to drug your own _brother_?" Carol asked Merle, incredulous,_ "Why?"_

"A joke—screwin' around—was only supposed to take the edge off, get him plastered faster." Merle whined, "He been such a tight ass since you two got so all fired serious—"

"Don't you dare put this on her!" Daryl growled, swaying forward to jab his finger at Merle.

"Now hold on there, Derelina—you cannot deny to me that you're a changed man since you hooked up with Carol—told me yourself she's the love of yer life!" Merle retorted, but then almost bit his tongue when he saw the stunned look on Carol's face.

"Aw shit—don't tell me you ain't told _her_ that yet!" Merle drawled, rubbing his hand over his grizzled chin, chuckling and rolling his eyes. "Get the fuck outa here." and then he started snorting, "No wonder she thinks yer gonna take back up with Philomena or some such horse shit—you people gotta learn how to _co-mmunicate_!" and he fell back on his pillows, laughing and wheezing like a lunatic.

This time it was Daryl's turn to look stunned. He threw the pill bottle at Merle and turned to Carol, a wounded expression on his face. She backed slightly away, holding her hand to her throat, looking confused but hopeful.

"You think I'm gonna leave you for Phil?" Daryl asked, sounding incredibly vulnerable.

"She's Sophia's mother." Carol said softly, biting her lower lip to keep from asking him the questions her heart had held close since yesterday. _Did he still love the mother of his child? Where did that leave her? Them? _And the new revelation Merle had just blurted so unceremoniously? What did she do with that?

"Sophia wouldn't know her if she passed her on the street" Daryl scoffed, "_You're _the one she cries for at night, you're the one I want to take her to buy her first bra and show her how to be a kind and good and _strong_ woman..."

"Philomena was your first love." Carol said, still trying to wrap her heart around what he was telling her.

"And you're my _last_..." Daryl said, pulling her into his arms, "I told you I love you, Carol. And thanks to this asshole," his head dipped back towards Merle who was listening raptly, "You know I meant eyes wide open, full blown stupid _forever_ kind of love." he kissed her then, once quickly and then looked deep into her brimming eyes, "You're _it _for me, Carol, I'm all in."

"_Told ya." _Merle piped up.

"Zip it, Merle." Daryl barked out of the side of his mouth, his eyes never leaving Carol's.

Carol looked up at Daryl, smiling, putting her hands on his cheeks, drawing his face down to hers, whispering, _"Me too...you..."_

Daryl grinned in relief and lifted her off the ground with his hug and they kissed again, his mouth moving over hers with a confident surety that took her breath away.

"Seein' as yer so happy now, ya think we could just overlook my earlier indiscretion?" Merle asked in a deliberately meek voice, rattling the pill bottle a little.

Neither Daryl nor Carol responded to his question, being more pleasantly occupied at present.

"Miss Carolanna? Mr. Glenn and Miss Tara are here!" Sophia announced, flouncing in through the open doorway in her cowgirl ballerina outfit of cowboy boots, a pink tulle skirt over black leotard and leggings and an old fashioned red drawstring cowboy hat that had been Daryl's as a little boy that she'd filched from his room.

The little girl stared at the couple and let out a satisfied smile and sigh. All was right with her world. Then she stuck her head back out the door.

"She's in Uncle Merle's room, _kissin_' with my daddy! _Again_." Sophia yelled to the new arrivals.

* * *

><p>"You are brimming over with...what?" Tara looked over at Glenn for confirmation of what she was seeing on Carol's face.<p>

Glenn followed Carol's sightline through the window to where Daryl stood outside the diner talking on his cell phone. They'd been about half way through lunch when his phone had rung and he'd excused himself to take the call.

"Oh, I don't know, I'd say it's _"My boyfriend is ever so dreamy..."_ Glenn mocked, tongue in cheek.

"What?" Carol asked, drawn out of her reverie, looking at them across the booth.

"It's just that with his baby momma back we were sort of worried about you—how you were doing." Tara said bluntly. "It can't be easy."

"I'm fine." Carol assured them with a calm smile, "We're fine." she added, looking out at Daryl again.

"You met her?" Tara asked, unable to hide her mordant curiosity about the woman who had given up both Daryl and Sophia all those years ago.

"At the hospital." Carol nodded, lifting her mug of Chai latte to her lips and blowing on the hot liquid to cool it down enough to sip.

"So? What's she like?" Glenn pressed, just as curious as his girlfriend. He was pleased that Carol seemed so unruffled about the sudden appearance of this Philomena, especially after he'd heard the shit that Ben Mason had pulled setting yesterday's almost tragic events in motion. His own parents had a hard time accepting most of his life choices and weren't above similar manipulative acts to try and get him to make what they considered "better" ones. As a result he had little contact with them, choosing to attend school a couple of thousand miles away from his Detroit home.

"Beautiful. Sophia looks a lot like her actually—same hair and eyes—build." Carol said. She was sure that the little girl's long slender limbs would give her that same dancer's height and grace as she grew up.

"And she's a professional dancer?" Tara asked, going off what Ellie had told her yesterday. Daryl's mother had been upset at the news of the Petersons' renewed presence in his life and had opened up about them to her and Sasha, who had both been with her in the kitchen when Daryl's first call from the hospital explaining why they were late came in.

"In New York." Carol nodded and gave a small smile. "And she dresses like it."

"Black and leather?" Tara asked with a sigh of appreciation, earning her an elbow in the side from Glenn.

"Just so you know, we're prepared to hate her on your behalf." Glenn said, reaching across and taking Carol's hand in his firmly.

"Thank you." Carol chuckled, "but that won't be necessary."

Glenn and Tara exchanged a look of approval.

"Loving the self confidence, honey!" Tara said holding out her fist for Carol to bump, which she did with her free hand.

Carol shrugged with one shoulder and gave them a suppressed tight mouthed smile, her cheek dimpling as though if she let the whole smile out it would overwhelm her entire face, careen off of it like an out of control rocket and explode all around them.

Daryl caught her eye through the window and smiled big, waving cute, just the tips of his fingers, then winked at her.

Carol pulled her hand out of Glenn's so she could wave back, both cheeks now dimpled, her eyes shining.

"There's that look again." Glenn grinned, "That _brimming over_ look."

"Confident." Tara sighed, "I guess I lost my chance at you." at Carol's puzzled look Tara explained, "You were number one on my list."

"Your list?" Carol asked as she picked up her mug again.

"My 5 free passes for no guilt sex if we're lost on a desert island or are the only survivors of the zombie apocalypse." Tara said matter of factly.

Carol carefully set down her hot tea and blinked rapidly as she digested the information.

"I'm flattered?" Carol finally murmured with a raised eyebrow and then looked expectantly at Glenn.

"You're on my list." Glenn told her, making her grin and then looked out the window at Daryl, "Him too." and then he nonchalantly took a drink of his coffee.

Carol frowned as if she was puzzling something out, looking back and forth between Daryl and Glenn.

"You and Daryl? That would've been hot." Carol agreed, nodding and tapping her fingers on her chin.

Glenn sputtered out a spit take and both Carol and Tara laughed at his amazed expression.

"Yeah, _hilarious._" Glenn grumped, grabbing several napkins to mop at the front of his t-shirt, his cheeks reddening at the images burning themselves into his brain. He loved Tara, but Daryl? _Hopelessly hot..._

"Daryl's been good for you—you would've turned beet red if someone had joked about sex stuff like this when we met you in August." Tara grinned approvingly at Carol.

"I'm gone five minutes..." Daryl grumbled. He had returned while they'd been teasing and now slid into the booth beside Carol, putting his arm on the seat behind her. "And you people are trying to talk her into some sort of _freaky shit, _aren't you?"

"Don't knock it until you've tried it, Dixon." Tara said cheekily, wrapping both arms around Glenn's neck and nuzzling his cheek.

Daryl didn't say a word; he just smiled a bit smugly, lifted his coffee and took a long drink.

Carol and the other couple exchanged a raised eyebrow look.

"You ready to go?" Daryl asked Carol, his hand curling around her shoulder and she frowned at him. She'd thought they had time to stay and visit with her friends for awhile after lunch; perhaps his phone call just now had changed his plans for the afternoon.

"Everything okay?" Carol asked, concerned.

"That was Merle's landlord—some problem at the apartment." Daryl told them, "Need to stop by there on the way home."

Beside him Carol stiffened slightly. She felt Daryl's fingers play back and forth over her sweater sleeve, felt his thigh hot and hard sliding against hers. The wave of desire she felt coming off of him made her body come to full attention, a tell-tale blush creeping over her cheeks.

"Oh, the apartment." Tara said, half-heartedly concealing her smirk. She knew very well what went on at Merle's apartment between Carol and the fascinating man who seemed to have claimed her as his own.

"Hope it's nothing too serious. I'm pretty handy with a screwdriver if you need some help..." Glenn added, tongue in cheek, wincing a little at the pinch Tara gave him under the table.

"I think we'll be fine, Glenn, thanks for the offer though." Daryl said, pretending he was taking the younger man seriously instead of understanding the double entendre.

* * *

><p>Daryl put the truck into gear and checked behind them in the side mirror before he pulled out into traffic. His right hand left the gear shift and settled over her left knee, returning there after every time he shifted, sliding slightly higher each time.<p>

Carol sighed and let her legs relax and fall more open until he could feel the moist heat at the apex of her inner thighs. She whimpered and caught his wrist in both hands, holding his hand in place.

"_Need you."_ Daryl said, his voice tight.

Carol looked over at his stoic profile, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"Got me." Carol said.

* * *

><p><em>Well, Merle's secret is out, but I have the feeling Daryl's not about to press charges against his brother. Merle will have to find other ways to make reparations for his idiotic stunt.<em>

_Phil and her family are still in the picture, but Daryl has made the strength of his feelings for Carol very clear to both women. Hopefully Carol will be able to be a source of support for both he and Sophia as they come to terms with this new family dynamic._

_Thanks for reading!_


	14. Chapter 14

_We begin with some sweet Caryl reunion smut and then things get a bit more serious as Carol and Daryl start to see the impact of the Petersons' return on the lives of the Dixons._

* * *

><p>14)<p>

**The Friday after Thanksgiving, 2 p.m.**

"Do you know how much you mean to me?" Daryl asked, lightly grasping her upper arm to stop Carol outside the door to Merle's apartment as she turned the key in the lock.

Carol turned her head, tilting it upwards so she could look into his warm blue eyes, the vertical line between them the start of a slight frown of sincerity. She reached up with her free hand and pushed his sandy shaggy bangs back off his forehead and then let her hand trail down to cup his cheek, nodding yes, her mouth working with emotion.

"I'm better...with you..." Daryl continued, his hands moving to her waist, anchoring her to him, "More at peace with myself than I ever remember being...it's like we get to start over...both of us...with each other...and I just-."

Carol stopped him by leaning up so she could pull his face to hers and kissing him, easing him back against the apartment door with her other hand on his chest, her body flush against his. Daryl's hands came to rest on her hips, thumbs moving up under her shirt to find the fine smooth skin of her waist, and she shivered.

"_Inside."_ Daryl murmured as he broke the kiss to nuzzle her cheek and neck, his tongue sweeping out, licking, making her hum in agreement. He reached behind him with one hand and turned the key, opening it and backing through it, bringing her along with him, closing the door behind them by kicking it shut with his foot.

Daryl led her through the apartment, pausing to kiss and nibble a path from her neck down to her collarbones about every third step, making her grin at his antics. He backed her into the bedroom, the kisses making her dizzy, but then turned her in his arms until she was standing in front of him facing the room, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

"_Daryl...?"_

On every flat surface in the small bedroom were vases, jars, glasses, just about whatever container there had been in the apartment that could hold water and all of them were full of one or two blooms all the way up to full bouquets of the same white flower he had picked for her in the glen after their picnic, Cherokee Roses. The room seemed as though it floated on a cloud of white eyelet lace.

Speechless, Carol turned and looked up at him. Daryl was watching her carefully to see how she reacted. He'd never done something so, well, so over the top just plain _romantic _for a woman before. He'd arranged it with Ty and Sasha earlier this morning and had called to check with them to make sure they were done while he and Carol had been at lunch at the diner.

He'd wanted to show her, _needed_ to show her how special she was to him, that he'd meant every word he'd said to her and thought that called for a grand gesture. Sasha had also sprinkled individual petals all over the pillows like fragrant decorative confetti and he led her over to the bed, motioning for her to sit. Carol did, wiping away the silent tears that warred with her emotion filled smile.

When Daryl knelt on the floor in front of her and took hold of her hand Carol got a slightly panicked look in her eyes.

"What are you-? _Daryl._.." Carol asked, raising an eyebrow and trying to pull her hand back, but he wouldn't release it.

Daryl pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket and held it out to her.

Carol's eyes went wide, finally managing to free her hand and lean back.

"It doesn't bite." Daryl said, wiggling the box slightly. Whatever was inside made a sort of swishing metallic rattling noise.

"Are you sure? Small boxes presented in beautiful romantic flower covered rooms..." Carol let her skeptical voice trail off as she looked all around and put both hands behind her back.

"Calm down, I'm not on one knee." Daryl said dryly, but Carol didn't miss the brief hurt look that went across his face before he added with a sigh. "It's just earrings. Sophia picked them out."

Carol took the box from him and he got up and sat beside her on the bed, a little apart, watching her while she opened the gift. The earrings were silver, long drops with at least a dozen tiny silver hearts and a myriad of different shades of blue beads on thin silver chains attached to the lobe wire. They were beautiful and very much her style.

"They're perfect." Carol said softly and then burst into tears. She covered her face with her hand while she held the box in the other.

"Hey! Hey..." Daryl soothed, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I love you...I do...but we've only been dating three months and my marriage was terrible and I'm not... I _love_ you..." Carol choked out and Daryl pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back and making comforting noises while she sobbed against his chest.

"So. Yeah. I'm pretty good at this romance shit...made my girlfriend cry...nice going, Dixon." Daryl drawled with a wry chuckle.

"No!" Carol stopped and looked up at him, miserable that she'd hurt him. "This_ is_ romantic—it's wonderful..._you're _wonderful...I just-"

"You're not ready, I know that sweetheart...but at the risk of freaking you out," Daryl interrupted and he kissed her brow, "I love you and I _do_ hope that's where this is going."

Carol looked up at him with shining eyes.

"We got time...always liked the slow burn..." Daryl grinned and pushed her curls behind her ears. "You really liked them?" he asked and found the box from where it had fallen onto the bed. She removed the earrings she was wearing, but before she could replace them with the gift ones, he took them from her and gently did it for her, finding the small holes in her lobes, his lips then brushing the softest of kisses to the shell of her ear. He ran his fingers down the line of the delicate chains and continued along her neck.

"I _want_ you...just wearing these..." Daryl whispered, kissing the silken skin behind her ear, his fingers finding and working the buttons at the collar of her blouse.

Carol made a small whimpering noise of agreement, raising her hands to help him, but he stopped her.

"Let me?" he asked, his voice soft and hoarse with desire, "You got your present—let me unwrap mine?"

He took his time, using both his hands and lips to place caresses and teasing nips to her flesh as it was revealed to him, inch by inch, the pale lightly freckled beauty of it making him worshipful. When he finished removing her blouse his hands moved to the clasp of her bra and then lowered the straps so he could fill his hands with the succulent orbs, groaning at the sensation of their softness against his rough palms.

"_Really love your peaches, wanna shake your tree..."_ he quoted, making her giggle.

"Gangster of love?" she asked, impressing him again with her knowledge of 70s music.

"Nah-space cowboy." he said smugly, grinning at her in that adorable way he had of doing it, with just the corner of one side of his sweet mouth, until a dimple appeared in his scruffy cheek.

Carol reached out and ran her index finger over his cheek and pushed in at the beauty mark near his mouth, smiling indulgently, and then gasped as he leaned close and sucked one firm nipple into his mouth with a humming sound. He worked it with his tongue, lightly rasping over and under, circling, suckling down hard.

"God, you are good at that..." Carol moaned, her fingers tangling in the hair at the back of his head to hold him close. She scratched at his scalp with her nails and he made a growly agreeable noise deep in his throat and she felt his teeth nip at her and she tugged on his hair harder.

"_Yes—oh yes—please?"_ Carol cried and bucked against him with gasps and cries of pleasure.

Daryl's hands slid to her back, anchoring them at her shoulder blades to hold her still.

"God you smell good...taste good..." Daryl murmured as he moved his mouth to Carol's other breast giving it the same treatment, feeling her tremble against his lips.

"_Daryl...please, I need..."_ Carol was breathing in quick gasps.

Daryl lifted his head and smiled.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" Daryl growled, low and sultry. "I know what _I_ need—think it's the same thing?" he asked. He pressed a kiss between her breasts and then continued on down, his hands sliding down her back and then to the front, unfastening her pants and dragging them down her hips along with her panties, her shoes and socks, quickly stripping them off of her.

Carol lay back on the bed watching him hungrily. She'd never tire of looking at him, the expanse of his shoulders and those arms, how they felt around her, and his hands on her just _did_ something to her she couldn't define, some feeling of completeness.

"I need this...you...all the time." Daryl told her, standing and pulling his shirt off over his head. Her eyes followed his hands as they moved to his belt buckle, holding her breath as he let his pants drop and then _tripped_, forgetting he hadn't taken off his boots, falling, twisting to the side so he wouldn't land on top of her. The shocked looked that replaced his smoldering one was comical, especially when his momentum carried him over the side of the bed and he landed on the floor in a heap on his ass, his pants down around his ankles.

"_Shit!"_ Daryl swore, more embarrassed than angry.

"Are you okay?" Carol said, trying to contain her giggles as she looked at him over the side of the bed.

"Fine." Daryl said, putting his right arm over his eyes, "Some grand seduction. _Fail."_

Carol slid off the bed, more flower petals following her down like a dusting of snowflakes.

"Hey!" Daryl grunted, his arms flying up, surprised by a hundred or so pounds of naked woman lightly landing on top of him.

She didn't say anything, just grinned as she sat straddling his waist, her hands on his chest.

"You gonna let me take my boots off?" Daryl asked, tilting his head to look at her with squinting assessment.

"Nope." Carol said, shaking her head from side to side. She snagged a pillow off the bed and handed it to him to put under his head. "Comfy?" she grinned when he placed the pillow and nodded in wary agreement.

Carol leaned over him, kissing his brow, her breasts brushing against his chest teasingly, the stiff little nipples grazing him, coaxing him into a whimper. Reaching over his head she grabbed a condom out of the bowl on the lower end table shelf and sat up straighter, letting him watch her as she opened it. Arching her back and reaching behind her, she found his burgeoning erection and carefully rolled the barrier of latex on and then with a sigh of satisfaction pushed back with her hips, notching the tip and then the broad head against her slick folds.

Daryl's hips rose in response and she sighed loudly as he penetrated her, sliding easily through her wetness, and she met him in equal measure, lowering herself onto him, leaning forward, bracing herself by gripping his muscular biceps. He groaned at her open-mouthed wide eyed expression and how she dug her fingers into his skin.

"God—always—_always_ ready for me..._take_ me...so sweet..." Daryl's drawl was low and careful, that honeyed tone he seemed to reserve for her alone. He raised his hands to her hips at the same time he raised his knees so she could lean back, her back supported by his upraised thighs, the position pulling him deeper inside her, forcing her to cry out his name from the sensation of being so fully filled, so aroused, her legs loosening wider.

"Don't move." Daryl said, rubbing her outer thighs soothingly, "Just want to feel you around me...so tight...just wanna live inside you..." he groaned.

Carol tried to even out her breathing and hold still, but she needed more and reached down for his right hand, drawing it up to the apex of her thighs.

"_Touch_ me?" she requested in a breathy voice.

"_Oh hell yeah."_ The thought of her coming around him made him follow her lead without hesitation. His fingers spread her open, exposing the swollen pleasure point, stretched tight around the girth of his cock. While he started the careful circling and strumming there with his fingertips she leaned back again and her hands moved to do the same to her own breasts, pinching their hardened points.

"Is that good? Is that what you need?" Daryl asked, breathing hard, his hand moving faster on her tender flesh.

"_Good."_ Carol moaned. _"Need."_

They worked together to bring her to a fever pitch of excitement until she had to _move, _riding him to completion, the rhythmic contractions as she came almost more than he could bear, a carnal torture of the best kind, caressing his cock from root to tip as he filled her.

"_Carol!"_ Daryl cried out her name hoarsely as his climax overtook him and he bucked up into her repeatedly, his fingers digging into her hips and then waist, pulling her down, holding her tightly to his chest, his arms encircling her in an intimate embrace, their mouths meeting in desperate deep kisses.

"You're amazing...you just go with the flow, don't you?" Daryl said as they lay side by side on the bed together later, having extricated him from his boots and pants after they regained their senses from the tumble on the floor.

"_Shhh..._kissing...there should be more kissing now for afterglow purposes." Carol admonished him teasingly.

Daryl rolled his eyes as she swooped in for several lip smacking silly kisses, but then he got serious about it and rolled her over so she was underneath him and plundered her mouth until she sighed in satisfaction.

"That's a_ start_ at an apology anyhow..." Daryl said, pouting and frowning at her and still managing to look sexy doing it.

"What?" Carol asked, holding his face in her hands, a thumb at each corner of his mouth trying to pull it up into a smile instead, genuinely puzzled as to which one of them needed to apologize for what.

"You have to admit—that was _not_ my smoothest set of moves." Daryl mumbled, blushing slightly, "I fell off the fucking _bed._.." With any other woman he'd have been dressed and out the door by now, unwilling to face the potential humiliation from the clumsy maneuver that had landed him on his behind. How the hell he'd forgotten to take off his damn footwear first he had no idea...unless it was just _her_...what she _did _to him that made his usual playbook obsolete...so starved for her touch, her body, her _everything_ that his well honed seduction skills lay abandoned at the bedroom door.

"It was fun." Carol shrugged, cuddling closer. "Romantic."

"Stop." Daryl made a _phht _sound of derision.

"No one's ever done something so romantic for me, Daryl." Carol reached out her hand and picked one of the soft white petals that had been strewn on the pillow case out of his hair. She rubbed its softness between her fingers and stared at it, raising her hand above their heads.

"They mean hope, you know." Daryl said, alluding to the legend surrounding the flowers.

"Every one of them represents a tear a mother shed for a lost child." Carol replied pensively, letting the petal fall back down to the bed.

Daryl took her hand and kissed her palm.

"Don't. _Don't_ you feel sorry for her. I know you—you have a good heart—but don't you waste your sympathy on Phil." Daryl said, his mouth set into a grumpy-cat line. "She made her choices."

"She was eighteen, Daryl. Pregnant and _eighteen_. She was a child _having_ a child." Carol argued.

"Hell, Carol, I stepped up!" Daryl said, his tone impatient now, his voice growing progressively louder. "I was nineteen and scared shitless _but I stepped up_! I built my _life _around _my_ child. Phil had eight years of chances to come back and be with us and she didn't—she stayed away and now there's you, so _fuck _her—she missed her chance!"

His angry vehemence surprised her. He seldom raised his voice to her, especially not in anger, knowing how that was a trigger for her. She knew this was a sensitive subject for him, but she couldn't help but have empathy for a young woman who had grown up in a household very much like her own.

"I...I'm sorry...I shouldn't have said anything." Carol said carefully, looking away, her tone a bit brittle.

Daryl could feel how her body had stiffened when he swore and ranted, hear the edge of fear in her voice as she apologized and he sighed.

"No—I am. Don't ever be afraid to tell me what you think, okay?" Daryl said gently, taking her chin in his hand and rubbing his thumb under it until she raised her eyes to his again. They started at one another, blue on blue and she gave him a tentative smile of agreement.

Daryl leaned closer and gave her a long sweet kiss, helping to calm her and remind her that she could trust him with anything. She was such a contradiction sometimes; he had to remember that she could be bold as brass one minute and guarded and shy the next.

"What does Sophia know about her mother?" Carol finally asked, winding her arms around his neck to keep him close. She knew he'd explained that her other grandma Peg would be coming to dinner today and Soph had been excited, but that he hadn't broached the subject of a possible visit from Phil, wanting to see how the first meeting with that side of her family went.

Daryl frowned. He'd been careful over the years to never say anything negative about Philomena in front of Sophia, but that meant he hadn't said much.

"Enough...that she loves her, but that she can't be with us because she's off dancing in a faraway place." Daryl told her. "I guess she thinks her mom is some sort of fairy princess ballerina or something."

"She looks like one." Carol nodded and Daryl gave a little sigh of agreement. They both thought of how much mother and daughter resembled one another, long limbed but delicate, with shining blue eyes and golden red hair.

"There are pictures. She has pictures of her mom." Daryl said, "Ones I took of her when she was pregnant, ones I drew...studies I drew for the window. Soph has them in a box she keeps under her bed."

"The angel window in your room?" Carol asked, that piece of the puzzle clicking into place, "You never finished it?"

"I finished it." Daryl said, his face clouding over. "And then Philomena added her own little contribution to it. With a rock."

Carol's mouth came open. The idea that someone would deliberately try to destroy something so beautiful that Daryl had worked so hard to create astonished her into saying the first thing that came into her head.

"_Bitch..."_

"I love you." Daryl choked out a laugh at her contrariness defending Phil for one thing and damning her for another one mere minutes later.

"Oh, just shut up and kiss me again." Carol sighed.

Daryl was more than happy to comply.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Friday, 6:00 p.m.<strong>

"How's she doing?" Andrea asked. She was at Dale's nephew's house with him in Boston for the week and had called Carol to check in. Like Glenn and Tara she'd been worried when she heard of Phil's return.

"Sophia? She's fine. She's over the moon to know she has more grandparents." Carol laughed, "Peg brought what looked like eight years worth of Christmas and birthday gifts. Daryl let her pick one for Soph to open today and hid the rest in a closet."

"Buying her love?" Andrea asked cynically.

"No—I really do think that maybe Peg had secretly been buying her gifts every year but never got up the nerve to send them." Carol said charitably, and then sighed. "She _is_ their only grandchild and Daryl has always wanted them to know her."

"And how are you and Daryl doing?" Andrea asked, her tone now one of concern.

"He told me he loves me..." Carol said all in a rush, leaving out the circumstances surrounding it—Merle's confession, unsure of what Daryl intended to do with that information.

"Well, of course, what's not to love?" Andrea sniffed with a superior air making Carol chuckle.

"I have to go—promised Soph I'd help her lay out the cards for her new game." Carol explained. "Thanks for checking in-I miss you."

"Miss you too. See you next week. Take care of that gorgeous man of yours." Andrea said warmly.

"You too, bye!" Carol replied, thumbing off her cell. "Okay, kiddo!" she called for Sophia, "I'm ready!"

"Thank you for calling Philomena...her father wouldn't have let me...it means so much to have her here now." Peg said, her hand on Daryl's forearm, having pulled him aside while Carol and Sophia set up the game her grandmother had brought for her on the card table with Merle kibitzing unhelpfully from the couch. He'd been on his best behavior, politely greeting Mrs. Peterson and asking how her husband was doing despite his own feelings about the way both of Phil's parents had treated Daryl in the past.

"I'm sorry-I don't know what you mean..." Daryl said, frowning down at her.

"You called her, in New York—told her about her father." Peg said.

"No, I didn't."

"But she called me that day and told me she was on her way to the hospital—I don't understand..."

"I didn't call her, Peg."

"So it was your mother?" Mrs. Peterson asked, looking over at Ellie.

"Mom?" Daryl called.

"Yes, youngest son?" Ellie looked up from the vegetables she was straining over the kitchen sink.

"Did you call Phil?"

"When?"

"To tell her that Tom was in the hospital?" Daryl asked.

"No. Didn't." Ellie said with a curious look and then a shrug, returning to her work preparing dinner.

Daryl and Peg both looked confused.

"Was it Carol then?" Peg asked looking over at her and Sophia and exchanging a little wave.

"No. She didn't have the number." Daryl said.

"Maybe she borrowed your phone?" Peg asked hopefully.

Daryl didn't think that Carol would've done that without telling him, but she might have if she thought it was important for Phil to be there for her father...No, she had seemed so surprised when Phil had shown up ...

"Carol?" Daryl called, motioning her over. Smiling, she stood and told Soph and Merle she'd be right back and walked over to them.

"She loves the present, Peg." Carol said warmly, glad that things seemed to be going so well.

"I'm glad.' Peg smiled, but then her brow wrinkled, "Carol dear, I was wondering, well, we were both wondering if you knew anything about my daughter coming to see her father after his illness."

Carol's smile faltered and she looked at Daryl for confirmation of the question.

"I was there when she arrived if that's what you mean." Carol said slowly.

"You didn't call her?" Peg asked, but as soon as she saw the silent look of dismay that Carol reflected back at her she shook her head, "I'm sorry—it's just that if no one called her, I don't understand why my daughter came back home after eight years."

"Why don't you just ask her?" Carol asked, making it simple.

"I don't want to risk chasing her away again." Peg told them, sounding sad and fearful, hoping they'd understand. "It just feels so fragile; this accord we have now." she looked over at Sophia, explaining something to Merle as they worked together to read the game directions.

Carol nodded. If there was anything she understood it was the difficulty of family relationships.

Daryl was less optimistic, knowing that there was another shoe waiting to drop, another bomb waiting to be defused before it could be detonated if Phil was involved and keeping secrets. Excusing himself, he left the room to make a phone call, determined to get to the bottom of her reasons for coming home.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Monday, 7:00 a.m.<strong>

Daryl took another sip of the now lukewarm coffee in front of him, wincing at its bitterness and wishing again that he'd asked Carol to come with him this morning. He'd told her that he had an early breakfast meeting with an out of town client for the salvage business this morning and that he'd hook up with her later today for lunch.

He didn't like the lie by omission that he'd been forced to tell his girlfriend by agreeing to the terms that Phil had set for their meeting: come alone, tell no one, and meet her here in Peachtree City instead of Senoia or Woodbury. Whatever her reason for the cloak and dagger shit he hoped it would help him get to the bottom of the mystery of Phil's return. If it wasn't because of her father, then he worried it had something to do with Sophia...

Phil had signed over her parental rights when Soph had been born, but he'd heard of them being challenged before, especially when the mother was so young. He forced down the sense of panic that he felt at anything possibly threatening his daughter's happiness and well being.

"Hey." a soft voice said and he felt a hand on his shoulder and a kiss brushed onto his cheek. She had come up behind him on his blindside as he gazed out the window, surprising him. As Phil slid into the booth bench seat opposite him Daryl noticed that she seemed subdued like she had been at the hospital.

Her long hair was in a single long braid hanging down her back and she'd made no effort to hide the shadows under her eyes with any make-up. She was dressed more casually, in worn jeans and a soft looking pale yellow blouse and white sweater that made her seem to fade into her surroundings, chameleon-like. She also looked more like she had when they'd first met, which might have been her way of trying to put him at ease, but it had the opposite effect, reminding him of all the pain she'd caused back then.

"Mornin'" Daryl said, giving nothing away. The attentive young waitress, who'd been flirting with him since he walked in the door, sauntered over carrying a carafe of coffee, a sour look on her face when she saw his attractive breakfast companion.

"Warm that up for you, hon?" she asked with a smile, ignoring Phil.

Daryl held out his coffee mug, the bitter brew seeming a fit drink for the day.

"I'd like some hot water, please? For tea?" Phil asked politely as the waitress lingered over a slow pour to fill Daryl's mug.

"Got black or green." the waitress said flatly, keeping her eyes on Daryl the whole time.

"Oh really, that's not necessary, I have my own." Phil told her, pulling a Ziploc full of tea out of her bag and that made the waitress swing around to stare at the other woman.

"Still have ta' charge you for tea." the waitress said, sounding put out, expecting an argument.

"Why of course you do, dear. It costs for the electricity or gas to heat the water and for your time to bring it to me." Phil agreed benignly, her careful veneer of charm firmly in place. She may live and work in New York now, but she was born and bred in Georgia, and just like Scarlet O'Hara she knew how to work it.

The waitress frowned at her and then shrugged, bustling away to get the water.

"Are you going to eat?" Phil asked Daryl, indicating the menu which Daryl was picking at the corner of with his left hand. "Do you still like mushroom and cheese omelets?" she chuckled, "Remember the first time Ellie tried to teach me to—"

"Phil—I'm not in the mood for a stroll down memory lane. Just tell me what you want. _Why _are we here?" Daryl said, keeping his voice as even as possible.

Philomena's expression went from mild amusement to a flash of anger to controlled calm in only a few seconds. She took a deep breath and then nodded at him. She rolled up the sleeves of her sweater and blouse, revealing a variety of bruises, some still deep purple, others redder or faded to a sickly yellow. There were also obvious small round red marks, the kind left by needles, over her veins on the inside of each elbow.

"_What the hell, Phil?"_ Daryl said, quietly shocked, thoughts of her being abused or on drugs warring with each other in his mind.

"I'm dying, Daryl. I have leukemia and the only chance I have is if a blood relative has compatible bone marrow that they are willing to donate. If neither of my parents are a match I want to have Sophia tested." Phil said all in a rush, quickly and softly lobbing her grenade and then sitting back and waiting for it to detonate.

* * *

><p>AN: The song (which has always reminded me of NR!) that Daryl quotes to Carol is "<strong>The Joker<strong>" by the Steve Miller Band from their 1973 album, _The Joker_ and includes the lyrics:

_Some people call me the space cowboy; yeah  
>Some call me the gangster of love...<em>

_You're the cutest thing that I ever did see  
>Really love your peaches, wanna shake your tree<br>Lovey dovey, lovey dovey, lovey dovey all the time._

Thanks for reading!


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